TOM  TAD 


WILLIAM  HENRY 


.  4$P  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS 


"  MR.    TURTI.K    \VII.I.    \VAKK    UI'    AND    HUMP    HIMSELF." 


TOM  TAD 


By 

W^illia  m    He  nry    V en  able 


AUTHOR    OF    "  A    History    of  the    United 
States,"     "A    Dream    of    Empire,"    etc. 


New   Tork  : 

Doddy  Mead  &  Company 
IQO2 


Copyright  jgoa 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

FIRST  EDITION  PUBLISHED 

AUGUST,  iqoa 


THE  CAXTON  PRESS 
NEW  YORK. 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    BOYS  IN  THE  WOODS 1 

II.    THE  LAND  "  TORTLE  " 7 

III.  CHAELIE  BLOGSON'S  LEG 12 

IV.  TOM  AND  HIS  MOTHEE 17 

V.    THE  AEEOW-HEAD  HUNTEES 22 

VI.  SQUINTY  RUNKLE  AND  OTHER  SPECIMENS  .   .    27 

VII.    THE  SHANTY-BOAT  SUEPEISE 37 

Vm.    TOM  TAKES  A  LESSON  IN  GEBMAN 43 

IX.    TOM  IGNOEES  SOCIAL  DISTINCTIONS 47 

X.    TOM  AND  FEITZ  CONVERSE 51 

XI.    TOM  AND  THE  SHOW 56 

XII.    FIGHTING  THE  FRENCH  ARMY 63 

XIII.  TOM  LOSES  His  MORAL  COURAGE 71 

XIV.  TOM  LECTURES  ON  "ANIMALS  AND  So  FOARTH  "   84 
XV.  A  RAID  ON  SQUIRE  HOYLE'S  ORCHARD   ...     93 

XVI.    PRINCIPAL  GADMETER'S  SAGACITY 100 

XVII.    TOM  GETS  A  FLOGGING 108 

XVIII.    BARCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU 118 

XIX.    SQUINTY'S  VENGEANCE 130 

XX.    A  MODEL  SCHOOL  EXAMINATION 140 

XXI.  THE  RAIN  DESCENDED  AND  THE  FLOODS  CAME  147 

XXII.    ADRIFT 157 

XXIII.  To  THE  RESCUE 164 

XXIV.  WASH  BARTON'S  LAST  VOYAGK 178 

XXV.    HOME  AGAIN 192 

XXVI.    SWEET  GIRL  GRADUATES 197 

XXVII.    LITERARY  DIVERSIONS 209 

v 


2133456 


VI 


CONTENTS 


XXVIII.  SCOOMFOOZLE 218 

XXIX.  BARCLAY'S  GUN 224 

XXX.  THE  CABOL  OF  A  MEADOW  LARK 236 

XXXI.  THE  UNION  PICNIC 246 

XXXII.  KING'S  Ex 265 

2EXXTTI.  TOM  DISCOVERS  NEW  WORLDS 276 


Tom  Tad 


BOYS  IN  THE  WOODS 

"HELLO!" 

"Hello  yourself!" 

"  Why,  Charley,  is  that  you  ?  " 

"  'Tain't  anybody  else.  Didn't  you  know  me, 
Tom?" 

"  No ;  I  took  you  for  a  coon  or  a  catamount. 
What  are  you  up  there  for  ?  " 

"  For  fun ;  I  thought  I  saw  a  young  squir'l  go 
in  this  hole ;  but  the  holler  don't  go  no  f urder'n 
I  can  reach,  and  there's  no  squir'l.  But  I  see  a 
noriold's  nes'  out  here  on  a  limb.  Come  on  up." 

"  That's  not  an  oriole's  nest,  Charley." 

"I  bet  you  it  is.  Hurry,  Tom.  Let's  play 
circus.  This  limb  is  a  trapeze.  You  hang  on 
to  me  and  swing  out,  and  I'll  hold  fast  by  one 
leg." 

"  No ;  play  we  was  on  a  ship's  mast,  and  that 

1 


2  TOM  TAD 

there  was  a  storm.  Don't  the  wind  feel  nice 
and  cool  to  your  face  ?  Whee !  don't  she  rock  ! 
I'm  going  to  climb  clean  to  the  tip-top  and  stick 
my  head  higher  than  the  tree." 

Tom  clambered  to  the  giddy  outlook,  clinging 
to  the  swaying  bough  and  peering  out  through 
the  dense  foliage  of  the  sugar  maple  which  was 
now  his  ship  at  sea. 

"Who's  that  whistling?  Sounds  like  Sam 
Noggle.  Look'e  there !  I  spy  a  gang  by  the 
hollow  sycamore.  Can  you  see  from  where  you 
are?" 

"  Yes,  now  I  do.  Keep  still,  Tom,  and  watch 
'em." 

"They  are  coming  this  way,  Charley.  Hope 
they  won't  look  up  and  see  us.  Wisht  I  had 
something  to  drop. — Yes,  there  is  Sam  Noggle 
and  Seneca  Snooks  and  Alic  Thug,  and  the  fellow 
with  the  gun  is  Barclay  Snooks.  Right  behind 
him  there's  Squinty  Runkle,  following  along  as 
if  he  was  afraid  of  his  own  shadow." 

"  Hush  up,  Tom,  or  they'll  hear." 

"While  the  two  arboreal  youths  kept  a  dead 
silence,  listening  intently,  the  nomadic  idlers 
below,  having  sauntered  within  the  shadow  of 
the  tree,  disposed  themselves  upon  the  ground  in 
easy  attitudes.  The  most  striking  figure  in  the 
vagabond  group  was  that  of  a  small-eyed,  sallow 
individual  of  seventeen  or  more,  with  warts  on 
his  grimy  hands,  and  a  few  reddish-yellow  hairs 


BOYS  IN  THE  WOODS  3 

growing  upon  his  chin,  in  patches,  like  tufts  of 
dead  grass  on  a  clay  bank.  He  wore  a  long- 
tailed  nankeen  coat,  and  the  picturesque  ruin  of 
a  white  hat  of  that  variety  vulgarly  called 
"  plug." 

Taking  from  his  vest  pocket  a  cheap  cigar,  he 
bit  off  the  end  of  it  and  lighted  the  weed  with  a 
match,  while  the  attendant  ragamuffins  gathered 
closer  around  him,  admiring  his  powers  of  suc- 
tion and  his  gun.  That  gun !  How  they  longed 
to  possess  such  a  weapon  of  destruction !  What 
a  privilege  to  be  allowed  to  handle  the  coveted 
firearm,  if  but  for  a  second !  The  jealous  owner 
was  not  easily  induced  to  permit  any  one  but 
himself  to  touch  the  precious  fowling-piece. 
Squinty  Eunkle  imprudently  ventured  to  pick  it 
up,  raise  it  to  his  shoulder  and,  with  eyes  shut 
and  mouth  open,  take  aim  at  things  in  general, 
when  the  owner  angrily  shouted : 

"  Put  that  shooting-iron  down !  Don't  you 
tetch  it  ag'in !  " 

Squinty,  in  a  flurry,  laid  the  gun  on  the  ground, 
looking  ashamed  and  penitent. 

"Do  you  know  what  I'll  do,  young  man,  if 
you  tetch  my  gun  ag'in  ?  " 

Squinty  stared  helplessly  at  the  other  boys,  in 
mute  trepidation. 

"I'll  rip  off  yer  scalp." 

"He  wasn't  hurting  the  gun,  Barclay,"  hesi- 
tatingly expostulated  Seneca  Snooks  who,  for 


4  TOM  TAD 

some  reason,  wished  to  appear  the  friend  of 
Squinty. 

"  You  shet  your  gab,  Sineca,"  was  the  reply, 
accompanied  by  a  box  on  the  younger  brother's 
ear.  "  Jist  let  him  tetch  that  shooting-iron,  and 
I'll  peel  the  scalp  off  him  with  my  bowie-knife, 
like  the  red-skins  used  to  scalp  the  whites  in  this 
here  Big  Woods.  There  used  to  be  millions  of 
Indians  all  around  here.  My  gran'daddy  lost  his 
scalp  two  or  three  times.  But  he  had  his  revenge, 
didn't  he,  Sineca  ?  " 

The  younger  brother  thus  appealed  to  nodded 
confirmation. 

"  How  did  he  git  his  revenge  ? "  asked  Sam 
toggle. 

"  He  coaxed  the  red-skins  to  come  to  his  block- 
house to  git  some  whiskey,  and  about  fifteen  of 
'em  dropped  to  it,  or  wasn't  it  seventeen  ?  And 
he  let  'em  drink  whiskey  until  they  was 
dead  drunk  and  asleep  on  their  backs.  Then  he 
poured  melted  lead  down  their  throats,  didn't  he, 
Sineca  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  did ;  lead  and  pewter." 

"  My  gran'daddy  was  a  big  man  in  the  war," 
continued  Barclay.  "He  shot  two  hundred 
British  with  this  very  shooting-iron." 

Sam  toggle's  face  plainly  indicated  that  he 
doubted  the  statement,  but  he  did  not  deny  it ; 
he  merely  remarked,  "  Must  be  a  mighty  good 
gun." 


BOYS  IN  THE  WOODS  5 

"  I  should  say  so.  It  has  saved  my  life  more 
than  once.  Hain't  it,  Sineca  ?  " 

Seneca  hesitated  but  an  instant  and  then  re- 
inforced Barclay's  word  with  an  emphatic,  "I 
bet  it  has." 

"  One  day  I  was  out  alone  in  the  woods,  with- 
out ary  gun,  when  a  tiger  came  bulging  at  me." 

"  A  tiger,  Barclay ! "  said  Sam,  quizzically. 
"  There  ain't  no  tigers  in  these  woods." 

"  That  was  when  we  was  living  at  Christians- 
burg,  more  than  twenty  mild  from  here,"  replied 
Barclay,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 

"  But  there's  no  tigers  in  the  United  States." 

"  Look  here,  Sam,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  I'm 
a  liar  ?  This  tiger  that  I'm  telling  you  about 
was  a  Siberian  tiger  that  got  loose  from  John 
Kobinson's  show  and  was  bulging  around  the 
woods  fer  something  to  eat,  and  then's  when  it 
came  at  me.  I  hadn't  ary  gun  or  ary  knife.  So 
I  picked  up  a  club  and  I  went  fer  that  beast. 
We  had  it  nip  and  tuck  fer  more  than  two  hours. 
At  last  I  got  a  fair  lick  and  stunned  him,  and 
hollered  to  a  man  to  fetch  some  rope,  and  we 
tied  him — that  is  I  tied  him,  fer  the  man  was 
afeard  to  help.  That  man  turned  as  white  as  a 
sheet  when  he  seed  the  tiger.  Well,  I  wrote  a 
letter  to  John  Robinson  down  at  Cincinnati,  and 
he  came  up  and  got  his  blasted  old  tiger.  He 
paid  me  a  thousand  dollars  fer  that  animal, 
didn't  he,  Sineca  ?  " 


6  TOM  TAD 

"More'n  a  thousand,"  testified  the  faithful 
younger  brother. 

"  No ;  jist  a  cool  thousand." 

"  "What  a  liar  he  is !  "  whispered  Tom  to  his 
comrade  in  the  tree-top. 

"  He  knows  they're  afraid  to  deny  anything 
he  says,"  answered  Charley.  "  I  believe  he'd 
just  as  soon  kill  a  boy  as  look  at  him." 

"Where  shall  we  go  next,  Barclay?"  asked 
Sam  toggle.  "What's  the  matter  of  you  all 
comin'  down  to  the  river  with  me  and  go  in 
swimmin'  ?  " 

"  No.  I'm  going  round  by  Tadmore's  house, 
on  the  hill,  to  try  to  get  a  pop  at  his  dog.  I'd 
like  to  shoot  that  dog,  or  pizen  it,  to  get  even 
with  their  Dutchman  w'at  ordered  me  out  of  the 
water-millon  patch.  Little  Tom  is  a  sassy  cub, 
and  the  whole  pack  of  Tadmores  is  proud.  That 
gal  Hanner  is  mighty  stuck  up ;  she  won't  look 
at  a  workin'  man." 

"  She's  good  lookin',  if  she  is  stuck  up,"  said 
Alic. 

"  That  won't  save  the  dog  if  I  kin  draw  a  bead 
on  him  with  this,"  muttered  Barclay,  laying  his 
warty  paw  on  the  gun. 


II 

THE  LAND  "TORTLE" 

WITH  rapidly  beating  heart,  Tom,  from  his 
perch,  heard  these  sentences  concerning  his  home 
folks  and  his  dog.  What  more  Barclay  might 
have  said  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  from 
Squinty  Kunkle,  who,  after  his  humiliating  ad- 
venture with  the  gun,  had  rambled  off  by  him- 
self. While  tramping  about  in  the  weeds  and 
tall  grass,  he  struck  his  foot  against  a  solid  object 
and,  stooping,  discovered  a  queer  animal  which 
he  picked  up  and  held  to  the  view  of  the  idlers 
under  the  tree. 

"  It's  a  land  tortle  ! "  he  cried. 

"  Danged  if  it  isn't !  "  was  the  corroborative 
exclamation  of  Thug.  "  Bring  him  here, 
Squinty."  The  four  squatters  scrambled  to  their 
feet  and  crowded  around  Squinty  when  that  re- 
joicing juvenile  fetched  the  captured  reptile  near 
the  maple. 

"  Le'me  cut  my  name  on  his  back,"  was  the 
proposal  of  the  elder  Snooks,  as  he  cast  aside  the 
stump  of  his  cigar. 

"  No,"  protested  the  proprietor  of  the  captive ; 
"  cut  my  name ;  he  ain't  your  tortle." 

7 


8  TOM  TAD 

"  He's  mine  if  I'm  a  mind  to  take  him  away 
from  you.  Lay  him  down  here,  and  le's  look  at 
him." 

The  intimidated  Squinty  obeyed.  Sam  Nog- 
gle  looked  on  with  manifest  disapproval  of  Bar- 
clay's despotism,  but  did  not  interfere.  As  for 
Thug  and  the  lesser  Snooks,  they  were  reduced 
to  serfdom. 

"Now,"  proceeded  Barclay,  "I'll  show  you 
fellers  how  you  kin  have  some  bully  sport. 
First,  Alic,  you  go  and  kindle  a  fire  in  that 
holler  stump.  Wait,  here  is  some  matches. 
Squinty,  you  run  and  git  a  lot  of  dry  leaves  and 
twigs.  No !  hold  on !  Bring  them  matches 
back,  Alic ;  go  along  with  Squinty,  and  you  two 
hurry  up  and  fetch  a  pile  of  kindling,  and  I'll 
tetch  off  the  fire  myself.  Sineca,  you  stay  here 
and  watch  my  gun,  and  keep  your  eye  on  that 
tortle,  and  don't  let  him  git  away,  or  I'll  wallop 
you.  D'ye  hear  ?  " 

The  fire  was  soon  blazing  briskly  and  within 
half  an  hour  the  dry  wood  of  the  stump  was  one 
red  glow.  The  pungent  smoke  rose  among  the 
green  boughs  and  greeted  the  nostrils  and  eyes 
of  Tom  and  Charley,  like  incense.  Those  ob- 
servant witnesses  were  as  curious  as  the  terres- 
trial party  to  learn  what  sort  of  sport  Barclay 
was  about  to  begin.  They  were  not  kept  long 
in  suspense.  The  brutal  big  boy  deliberately 
scraped  a  heap  of  burning  coals  upon  a  bark 


THE  LAND  "  TORTLE  "  9 

shovel  which  he  conveyed  to  the  spot  where  the 
stupid  tortoise  lay,  on  the  ground,  with  head  and 
legs  drawn  within  its  shell  which  was  shut  up 
like  a  box. 

"Fetch  him  out  here,  Sineca,  on  the  level 
ground,  and  you'll  soon  see  how  Mr.  Tortle  will 
wake  up  and  hump  himself  when  I  put  my  card 
on  his  back." 

Tom  and  Charley,  from  their  lofty  seat  in  the 
tree,  like  sylvan  gods,  looking  down,  saw  Bar- 
clay prepare  to  execute  the  plan  of  fiery  torture 
he  had  devised. 

"Now  look  out  fer  fun,  boys!  Something 
warm  is  about  to  drap  on  our  friend.  Didn't  I 
tell  you  so  ?  See  him  pop  his  head  out  to  see 
what's  the  matter !  He  can't  holler,  or  I  swow 
he'd  yell  like  - 

"  Take  the  coals  off  his  back  and  let  him  go !  " 

These  words  rang  loudly  from  above.  To  say 
that  the  group  on  the  earth  was  startled  by  this 
order  from  the  sky  is  not  to  say  enough.  They 
were  amazed.  It  was  as  if  the  dumb  victim  of 
persecution  had  drawn  out  of  heaven  a  voice  of 
mercy. 

"  Take  the  coals  off  his  back  and  let  the  tortle 
go ! "  Barclay  and  his  companions  staring  up 
saw  Tom  and  Charley  in  the  top  of  the  tree. 
Tom's  was  the  voice  they  heard. 

"  What  business  is  it  of  yourn  ?  "  yelled  Bar- 
clay. 


10  TOM  TAD 

"It's  anybody's  business.  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  play  a  mean  trick  like  that.  How 
would  you  like  to  have  hot  coals  put  on  your 
back?  It  ain't  fair.  Why  don't  you  take  a 
tortle  of  your  own  size,  you  ornery  brute  ?  " 

"  What's  that  you  say  ?  " 

"You're  an  ornery  brute,  I  say,  and  a  cow- 
ard." 

"Coward!  Gi'me  that  gun,  Sineca.  Blast 
me  if  I  don't  shoot  that  kid's  head  off."  Saying 
this  he  made  a  feint  of  carrying  out  the  threat 
and  actually  pointed  the  gun  at  Tom ;  he  even 
went  so  far  as  to  cock  it.  Charley  Blogson  was 
desperately  frightened.  Tom's  excitement  was 
defiant  and  reckless. 

"  Don't,  Barclay,"  interposed  Alic.  "  Don't 
point  the  gun  at  him ;  it  might  go  off " 

"  Shoot  if  you  dare !  "  cried  Tom.  "  You  are 
afraid  to  shoot!  You  are  all  cowards  or  you 
would  take  the  tortle's  part!  Shoot  if  you 
dare!" 

"And  I  will  shoot!" 

The  next  instant  he  did  shoot,  but  took  care 
to  direct  the  muzzle  of  the  piece  so  that  the  dis- 
charge would  not  be  likely  to  injure  the  human 
game  that  he  wished  only  to  terrify.  Now  it 
happened  that  the  rusty  gun  was  overloaded  and 
it  had  not  been  fired  for  a  long  time.  It  went 
off,  with  a  tremendous  explosion,  and  with  so 
violent  a  kick  that  Barclay  was  thrown  back- 


THE  LAND  "TORTLE"  11 

ward  to  the  ground  and  fell  upon  the  very  coals 
provided  for  "  waking  up  "  the  smaller  brute, 
which  in  the  general  confusion  escaped  to  covert 
in  the  cool  grass.  That  Barclay  "  humped  him- 
self "  to  avoid  a  scorching,  his  friends  were  not 
sorry  to  see.  His  bruises  and  sundry  holes  burnt 
in  his  long-tailed  coat  were  not  the  most  alarm- 
ing effect  of  Barclay's  rashness.  A  stray  shot  of 
the  handful  that  flew  into  the  air  hit  Charley 
Blogson  in  the  leg,  causing  that  hapless  child  to 
howl  with  pain  and  shriek  that  he  was  killed. 
Barclay,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  upon  his  feet, 
took  to  his  heels,  as  did  likewise  his  brother, 
with  Squinty  Kunkle  and  Alic  Thug.  Sam  Nog- 
gle  lingered  until  Tom  and  Charley  descended 
from  the  tree.  Satisfied  that  neither  of  them 
was  seriously  hurt,  his  mind  was  relieved.  Still 
bearing  in  his  memory  the  accusation  of  coward- 
ice which  Tom  had  hurled  at  the  whole  gang, 
Sam  felt  it  due  to  his  self-respect  to  show  resent- 
ment. 

"  I  can  whale  you  both,"  he  said,  "  and  two 
more  like  you."  After  which  sociable  remark, 
he  indulged  in  a  war-whoop  such  as  he  imagined 
the  Indians  give  when  they  rush  to  battle  ;  then 
he  scudded  away  through  the  thick  woods  to 
join  the  retreating  forces  of  chieftain  Barclay 
Snooks. 


Ill 

OHAELEY   BLOGSON'S  LEG 

"  CHARLEY,  do  you  think  you  can  walk  as  far 
as  our  house  ?  Is  your  leg  much  hurt  ?  Maybe 
you'll  have  to  have  it  cut  off.  Uncle  Felix  is  a 
sargeant,  you  know,  and  he  will  saw  it  off  for 
you  for  nothing.  Pull  up  your  trouse's-leg  and 
let's  see  the  woun'.  Here  it  is  in  the  hind  calf 
of  your  ankle.  There's  a  blue  spot  and  some 
blood.  Does  it  pain  ?  " 

"  No,  not  much  yet,  but  I'm  afraid  the  shot 
will  pizen  my  blood.  Doctor  Blumas  says  there's 
ars'nic  in  shot  and  a  boy  once  died  after  s  waller- 
ing  a  bullet.  I'd  hate  to  have  that  leg  took  off, 
Tom.  Do  you  really  think  there  is  any  danger  ? 
It  must  be  dreadful  to  have  them  saw  off  your 
live  leg." 

The  boys  trudged  along,  up  hill  and  down 
dale,  over  logs  and  through  tangled  underbrush, 
talking  as  they  went,  Charley's  mind  sorely 
troubled  with  misgivings  that  the  shot  might 
"  pizen "  his  blood,  in  which  case  he  would  be 
obliged  to  suffer  a  surgical  operation. 

"  If  I  have  to  have  my  leg  took  off,  would  they 
hang  Barclay  ?  " 

12 


CHARLEY  BLOGSON'S  LEG          13 

•'  Of  course ;  of  course  they  would.  They 
might  hang  Seneca  too,  and  Squinty,  and  Sam, 
for  they  looked  on  and  encouraged  Barclay  to 
shoot.  The  law  says  that  an  assistant  in  a  mur- 
der case  is  just  as  bad  as  the  head  murderer." 

"  I  wish  they  would  hang  'em,"  said  Charley, 
"  or  put  'em  in  jail  anyway.  But  I  hate  to  have 
your  uncle  saw  it  off." 

"  It  don't  hurt  as  much  as  you  might  think  to 
have  your  leg  or  arm  cut  off.  The  meat  under 
the  skin  hasn't  any  feeling,  the  physiology  book 
says.  You  can  jab  a  fork  into  the  lean  meat  or 
muscle,  and  not  know  it.  Then  the  bone  won't 
hurt  either,  but  you'll  hate  the  sound  of  the  saw. 
Bone  is  just  like  wood." 

Miss  Hannah  Tadmore  was  the  first  to  greet 
Tom  when  he  and  the  melancholy  Blogson  came 
across  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house.  She  had 
been  anxiously  awaiting  her  brother's  return. 
So  had  his  mother  and  his  aunt.  They  were  all 
much  relieved  to  see  the  boy,  but  not  quite  so 
glad  he  had  brought  Charley  with  him. 

"  Why  Tom,  where  in  the  world  have  you  been 
all  day  ?  Mother  has  needed  you  to  split  kin- 
dling and  to  bring  up  coal." 

"Has  she?  What's  the  hired  man  for?  It 
hurts  my  back,  and  makes  my  head  ache,  to 
carry  up  that  heavy  coal  hod,  and  it's  so  far  to 
go  for  kindling, — clean  down  to  the  shop.  But 
I'll  tend  to  it.  Where's  Uncle  Felix  ?  " 


14  TOM  TAD 

"  He  went  out  with  his  beating-net  to  catch 
bugs.  Yonder  he  is  in  the  meadow.  Are  you 
not  hungry,  you  and  Charley  ?  Come  in  and 
get  some  pie  ;  I'll  tell  mother  and  aunty  you  are 
found." 

"We  weren't  lost.  We  will  be  there  in  a 
minute.  First  I  must  see  Uncle  Felix ;  Charley 
has  some  business  with  him." 

"  Can't  Charley  wait  until  after  you  eat  lunch  ? 
uncle  will  soon  be  back.  Shall  I  run  and  call 
him  while  you  eat  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  we'll  go  ourselves.  We'll  be  back 
in  a  second." 

They  soon  came  near  Uncle  Felix,  whom  they 
found  intently  examining  a  beetle  he  had  just 
caught. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Felix,"  began  Tom,  almost  out  of 
breath,  "  his  leg  is  hurt." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  the  uncle,  inspecting 
the  specimen  in  his  fingers.  "  Not  a  bit  of  it, 
Tom, — all  six  of  his  legs  are  perfect." 

Charley  Blogson,  whose  thoughts  were  con- 
cerned with  his  own  walking  appendages,  won- 
dered how  Tom's  uncle  could  indulge  in  such 
crazy  levity  concerning  the  number  of  a  boy's 


"  I  mean  Charley  ;  I  don't  mean  the  bug.  His 
leg  is  hurt." 

"  Not  bug,  but  beetle ;  you  should  never  call  a 
beetle  a  bug.  Have  I  not  often  explained  to 


CHAELEY  BLOGSON'S  LEG          15 

you  the  difference?  Now  pay  attention.  A 
beetle " 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  Uncle  Felix,  look'e  here. 
Charley  Blogson  is  shot  in  the  leg  by  a  gun,  and 
might  of  been  killed  by  old  Barclay  and  he's 
afraid  it  will  poison  his  blood  and  mortify, 
maybe,  so  that  he  will  have  to  have  it  took  off." 

"  What  are  you  taking  about  ?  Mortify  ?  Is 
this  the  boy  ?  Who  is  hurt  ?  Are  you  the  boy  ? 
Are  you  Blogson  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'm, — I  mean  sir,"  stammered  Charley, 
much  confused  and  frightened,  for  he  now  re- 
pented that  he  had  rushed  upon  his  fate.  "  Do 
you  think  it  will  have  to — do  you  think  you  will 
have  to — will  I  have  to  have  it  took  off  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see  the  wound.  Lie  right  down  upon 
the  grass.  You  were  inconsiderate,  Tom,  to 
bring  him  here  if  he  is  much  injured.  Why 
didn't  you  stop  at  the  house  ?  Don't  be  scared, 
Charley, — lie  down  and  I  will  examine." 

Pale  and  trembling  the  sufferer  obeyed  and, 
having  stretched  himself  on  his  back,  he  care- 
fully pulled  up  the  left  leg  of  his  trousers.  Tom 
made  haste  to  point  out  the  little  red  spot  on  a 
brown  and  stalwart  calf. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  the  operator,  not  able  to 
restrain  his  laughter.  With  what  grateful  joy 
did  Blogson  hear  the  slighting  remark !  Uncle 
Felix  took  from  a  small  case  of  instruments  a 
pair  of  tiny  forceps  with  which  he  picked  a  bird- 


16  TOM  TAD 

shot  from  its  shallow  lodgment  just  under  the 
skin  of  Blogson's  leg. 

Charley  arose  and,  casting  a  sheepish  glance 
at  Dr.  Eldon,  beckoned  Tom  aside.  "  Don't  tell 
anybody."  Then,  speaking  aloud,  "  I've  got  to 
hurry  home  and  fetch  in  the  cows  from  the  pas- 
ture. Good-bye." 


nr 

TOM  AND  HIS  MOTHER 

TOM  made  a  bee-line  for  the  house,  ravenous 
for  pie.  At  the  dining-room  door  he  was  met 
by  his  mother,  his  aunt  and  his  sister.  The  mother 
surveyed  him  with  looks  of  reproof  and  bid  him 
wash  his  hands  and  face ;  the  aunt  scanned  his 
torn  garments  and  threw  up  her  hands  as  though 
speech  failed  her;  the  sister  cut  the  pie  into 
quarters  and  put  one  of  them  on  a  big  plate  for 
Tom. 

"  Have  you  got  any  buttermilk  ?  "  The  butter- 
milk was  at  hand.  The  amount  of  refreshments 
that  Tom  managed  to  convey  to  his  interior  was 
enormous,  considering  the  dimensions  of  the 
boy. 

Tom  quitted  the  table,  kissed  Han,  and  went 
out  onto  the  porch  where  his  mother  was  wait- 
ing for  him. 

"  My  son,  did  you  have  something  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother ;  sister  gave  me  a  piece  of  pie 
and  a  cup  of  buttermilk,  and  I  can  wait  till 
supper." 

"  Where  have  you  been  to-day  ?  " 

"  No  place,  particular." 

17 


18  TOM  TAD 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  where  you  were  ?  " 

"Oh,  no  place  at  all,  hardly;  only  just  out 
here  in  the  woods,  t'other  side  of  the  Emperor." 

"  "What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  mother,  don't  you  know  the  Emperor  ? 
the  big  tree  that  Uncle  Felix  named  the  Em- 
peror, just  out  here  in  the  edge  of  our  woods  ?  " 

"  Were  you  no  farther  than  that  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  told  you  I  was  t'other  side  of  the 
Emperor.  I  was  out  with  Charley  Blogson  try- 
ing to  get  an  oriole's  nest ;  and,  oh,  mother,  we 
saw  a  land  tortle !  " 

"  You  should  not  say  '  tortle.'  I  wish  you 
would  not  run  with  boys  like  Blogson  and  take 
their  ways  of  speaking  and  their  manners." 

"  Why  mother,  Charley  Blogson  is  a  mannerly 
boy.  He  hardly  ever  talks  bad  grammar  nor 
slang.  The  worst  thing  he  says  is  that  he'll  *  be 
dogged,'  and  that's  not  bad  swearing." 

"  Tell  me  some  more  about  how  you  spent  the 
day.  I  want  you  to  give  me  a  full  account  of 
everything,  just  as  it  happened ;  where  you  went, 
who  were  with  you,  what  you  saw,  what  you  did 
and  said,  and  all  about  it  from  beginning  to  end. 
You  don't  talk  to  me  as  much  as  you  used  to." 

"  Well,"  began  Tom,  with  a  long  breath  and  a 
far-away  look,  as  if  laboring  to  recall  the  inci- 
dents of  the  day,  "  I  told  you  I  was  with  Charley 
in  the  woods." 

"Yes,  you  said  you  were  trying  to  get  an 


TOM  AND  HIS  MOTHER  19 

oriole's  nest.  Was  there  anybody  else  with  you 
but  Charley?" 

"  No,  only  me  and  Charley." 

"  You  should  say,  '  only  Charley  and  I.'  " 

"  Charley  was  up  a  tree  and  I  saw  him  there, 
and  I  clumb  up " 

"You  should  not  say  *  clumb.'  Surely  you 
have  been  taught  how  to  speak  correctly." 

"  "Well,  dim  up,  then." 

"  No,  Tommy,  not  that ;  there  is  no  such  word 
as  dim  or  dumb.  You  really  must  pay  more  at- 
tention to  your  grammar.  I  will  write  a  note  to 
Mr.  Gadmeter.  Go  on  with  your  story." 

The  boy  gazed  steadily  in  his  mother's  face  for 
a  moment  and  saw  that  she  was  really  grieved 
with  him,  and  troubled  by  his  blunders.  He 
came  to  her,  put  his  arms  around  her  neck,  and 
said,  very  sincerely, 

"  Mother,  don't  look  that  way.  You  are  the 
nicest.". 

It  made  him  miserable  to  see  her  unhappy. 
Yet  he  was  forever  causing  her  distress  or 
anxiety.  She  pushed  back  the  curly  hair  from 
his  forehead  and  gave  him  a  kiss  of  general  for- 
giveness, and  again  said,  "  Go  on  with  your 
story." 

"  I  saw  Charley  up  a  tree,  and  I — I  clamb  up — 
no " 

"Climbed." 

"  That's  what  I  say.     I  climbed  up  and  set, — 


20  TOM  TAD 

no,  sot  on  a  limb,  and  after  while  we  saw  Squinty 
Runkle  and  some  boys  with  a  gun.  They  canie 
up " 

"  Came  up  ?    How  ?    Not  up  the  tree  ?  " 

"  No,  they  came  up  and  laid,  no,  lied  down 
under  the  tree,  and  was  a  talking,  and  we  listened 
and  heard  what  they  said,  and  they  didn't  know 
we  was  up  in  the  tree.  And  old  Barclay 
said » 

"  Who  is  '  old  Barclay '  ?  You  didn't  mention 
him  before." 

«  Didn't  I  ?  Yes,  he  was  there.  Old  Barclay 
Snooks,  and  he  said  he  was  going  around  by  our 
house  and  try  to  shoot  our  dog." 

"  Shoot  our  dog  1  Who  is  this  old  man  that 
you  tell  me  of,  and  why  should  he  shoot  Hugo  ?  " 

"  He  isn't  an  old  man ;  we  only  call  him  old 
Barclay.  You  thought  I  meant  an  old,  old 
trembly  man,  like  Crazy  Fish,  the  hermit,  didn't 
you?  We  were  nearly  in  sight  of  his  hut, 
mother.  I  thought  I  saw  the  smoke  of  his 
chimney." 

"  Whose  chimney  ?  " 

"Crazy  Fish's.  He  lives  all  alone,  in  Mad- 
man's Hollow,  and  they  say  he  has  piles  of 
money,  but  he  goes  in  rags,  and  don't  eat  any- 
thing hardly, — and  some  think  he  steals  children 
and  sells  them." 

"How  did  you  learn  all  this?  Who  told 
you?" 


TOM  AND  HIS  MOTHER  21 

"  Oh,  all  the  boys.  I  saw  Crazy  Fish  once, — 
Charley  and  me,  but  we  didn't  go  near  him.  If 
you  come  close  to  him  he  throws  a  sort  of  pow- 
der in  your  face  and  then  you  can't  do  nothing, 
— you  can't  move  your  legs  or  your  arms." 

"What  nonsense  you  are  talking,  my  child. 
Say  no  more  about  this  imaginary  crazy  man, 
but  finish  what  you  were  saying  about  the  big 
boy  who  wants  to  shoot  our  dog." 

"  Barclay,  you  mean." 

"  Well,  go  on ;  what  more  did  he  say  ?  " 

"He  didn't  say  hardly  anything  else  that  I 
could  hear ;  I  was  so  high  up  in  the  tree.  Pretty 
soon  he  went  away  and  we  came  down,  and  hur- 
ried straight  home." 

"  Is  that  all  that  happened  ?  " 

Tom  stared  into  the  distance,  as  if  striving 
with  all  his  powers  to  recollect  whether  anything 
else  did  happen.  His  keen  eye  discerned  the 
gliding  figure  of  sister  Han,  coming  across  the 
lawn  with  a  heap  of  roses  in  her  apron.  Run- 
ning to  meet  her,  he  evaded  the  last  question 
which  his  mother  had  asked. 


THE   AKROW-HEAD   HUNTERS 

THE  sun  was  shining  in  at  the  window  when 
Hannah  came  as  usual  to  wake  Tom. 

"Breakfast  is  ready;  you'd  better  hurry  or 
the  brown  gems  will  be  cold.  Uncle  is  going 
on  an  excursion  up  the  river." 

Tom  looked  at  Han  with  wide  open  eyes. 

"Tell  him  to  wait  for  me.  I'll  be  down  in 
just  a  second.  Tell  Uncle  Felix  to  wait." 

Away  danced  Hannah,  singing  as  she  went, 
and  Tom  came  bounding  after  her,  in  a  partially 
buttoned-up  and  wholly  unkempt  condition. 

"  Where's  Uncle  Felix  ?  " 

"  He's  in  the  library  with  father.  He  says 
you  may  go  along  with  him.  Eat  your  breakfast 
and  get  ready." 

Dr.  Felix  Eldon  was  a  bachelor  of  independent 
fortune,  who  made  his  home  with  the  Tadmores. 
He  was  an  excellent  scholar,  with  a  scholar's 
tastes  and  habits,  and  chose  to  devote  his  time 
mainly  to  scientific  pursuits.  Tom  frequently 
accompanied  him  in  rambles  with  the  beating- 
net,  and  spent  hours  in  the  library,  looking  on 
while  the  skilful  naturalist  prepared  choice 
22 


THE  ARROW-HEAD  HUNTERS       23 

specimens  for  his  collection,  impaling  the  labeled 
insects  on  long  slender  pins,  and  arranging  them 
in  boxes  with  glass  covers.  As  a  result  of  these 
associations,  the  boy  picked  up  a  superficial  and 
miscellaneous  knowledge  consisting  for  the  most 
part  of  Latin  names.  It  added  greatly  to  his 
self-esteem  to  be  able  to  call  a  pinch-bug  Pas- 
solus  Cornutus,  and  to  speak  of  a  green  tiger- 
beetle  as  Cecindela  Sexgutata. 

"I  have  planned  an  excursion  up  the  river 
principally  to  look  for  arrow-heads.  I  mean  to 
take  Tom  along." 

"I  wish,"  remarked  the  father,  "you  would 
teach  him  something  more  useful  than  picking 
up  arrow-heads  and  mussel  shells.  My  opinion 
is  that  you  and  Eliza  are  spoiling  the  boy." 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Tadmore  entered  the 
library.  Tom  followed  her,  carrying  a  basket 
which  contained  an  abundant  supply  of  biscuits, 
cheese,  boiled  eggs,  sardines  and  pickled  cucum- 
bers, besides  a  dozen  big  apples  and  a  bottle  of 
cold  coffee. 

"  Take  good  care  of  him,  brother,  and  don't 
let  him  get  into  the  river  and  drown,  or  fall 
from  a  tree  and  break  his  neck." 

"  Nome,"  broke  in  Tom,  eagerly  replying  for 
his  uncle, — "  Nome." 

"  Don't  run  foolhardy  risks,  my  son ;  the  river 
is  treacherous.  Remember  Carl  Meyer  and  how 
he  was  drowned  near  the  mouth  of  Glen  Creek." 


24  TOM  TAD 

These  warning  words  of  a  fond  mother  were 
supplemented  by  her  husband's  not  less  earnest 
admonition. 

"Yes,  Tom,  mind  your  mother's  advice.  Do 
not  venture  out  on  those  coal-barges;  the  cur- 
rents that  sweep  between  them  are  dangerous  ; 
the  best  swimmer  might  be  sucked  under  as  Carl 
was.  Are  you  paying  attention  to  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  father,  I'll  be  careful;  I  always  am 
careful.  You  needn't  bother.  I  know  all  about 
suck-holes  and  eddies  and  undertow.  Carl  was 
a  dandy  swimmer,  but  he  must  have  got  the 
cramps,  I  guess.  Sam  Noggle  helped  pull  him 
out  and  roll  him  on  a  bar'l,  but  they  couldn't 
fetch  him  to.  You  ought  to  see  Sam  dive  under 
a  barge !  Water  can't  drown  him  !  Hurry  up, 
Uncle  Felix,  I've  been  waiting  for  you  a  year !  " 

Dr.  Eldon  took  his  hat  and  some  implements 
which  he  always  carried  on  jaunts  of  the  kind 
proposed,  and  the  two  scientific  explorers  started. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tadmore  watched  them  march 
briskly  away. 

"  What  a  darling  he  is !  "  remarked  the  mother 
to  herself. 

"  Who  ?  "  grunted  Mr.  Tadmore. 

"Why,  Tom.  The  dear  little  fellow  is  so 
frank  and  truthful  and  generous.  Nobody  can 
be  angry  with  him.  He  loves  everybody  and 
everything." 

"  Custard  pie,  in  particular." 


THE  ARROW-HEAD  HUNTERS       25 

"  Yes,  custard  pie ;  but  he  likes  sour  things  as 
well  as  sweet.  He  told  me  this  morning  that  he 
liked  his  father." 

"  Did  he,  Eliza  ?  Nonsense.  Hannah  is  worth 
a  baker's  dozen  of  Tom." 

The  specimen-hunters  set  out  at  a  lively  pace, 
on  the  road  to  Forest  Glen,  but  they  were 
destined  to  another  delay  before  escaping  from  the 
Tadmore  premises.  The  hired  man,  Fred  Haber- 
korn,  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  from  the  field  in 
which  he  was  at  work,  and,  rushing  to  meet 
them,  gave  Tom  a  huge  hug  and  then  shook  both 
his  hands  saying  with  a  gutteral  laugh  of  love 
and  pleasure : 

"  Good-bye,  Herr  Tom !  You  vas  go  walking 
mit  yoar  uncle  dees  day  ?  Ja  wohl !  Dot  vas 
blenty  fun,  eh  ?  " 

"  You  bet,  Fritz ;  we  are  bound  for  the  mouth 
of  Glen  Creek  to  hunt  specimunds." 

The  glad  expression  of  the  hired  man's  features 
instantly  gave  place  to  a  lugubrious  look  of  con- 
cern. He  shook  his  head  doubtfully  and,  ad- 
dressing Dr.  Eldon,  uttered  in  broken  English, 
pretty  much  the  same  fears  and  counsels  con- 
cerning the  perils  of  water,  as  had  just  been 
urged  upon  Tom  by  his  parents.  The  doctor 
assured  Fritz  that  no  harm  by  flood  or  by  field 
should  befall  their  common  charge,  and  the 
excursionists  moved  on. 

"  Fritz  is  an  old  granny ;  he  teases  me  to  death 


26  TOM  TAD 

by  liking  me  so  much  and  taking  care  of  me. 
He  is  worse  than  mother.  Ever  since  I  broke 
through  the  ice  last  winter  he  follows  me  every- 
wheres.  I  wish  he  wasn't  so  affectionate  and  so 
uneasy.  I'm  big  enough  to  manage  myself,  I 
reckon." 

"  I  hope  you  are,  Thomas,  but  you  must  not 
be  ungrateful  to  the  old  Dutchman.  He  means 
well." 

"  I  should  say  he  does  mean  well  and  act  well, 
too.  You  oughtn't  call  Mr.  Haberkorn  an  old 
Dutchman.  He  is  no  Hollander;  he's  a  full- 
blooded  high  German.  And  he  is  a  mighty 
splendid  scholar  too,  let  me  tell  you,  and  an 
awful  brave  fighter.  Fritz  is  learning  me  the 
German  language  so  as  I  can  read  "Wilhelm  Tell 
in  the  original,  and  he  knows  the  Erlking  and 
the  Song  of  the  Sword.  He's  got  a  bully  scar 
on  his  breast  of  a  sabre  cut ;  and  a  bullet  through 
his  leg.  Once  he  showed  me  the  breast  scar,  but 
he  says  he  wouldn't  tell  anybody  else,  for  a  man 
mustn't  brag  of  his  woun's." 


VI 

SQTTINTY  RTTNKLE  AND  OTHER  SPECIMENS 

AMUSED  by  Tom's  prattle,  Dr.  Eldon  led  the 
way  from  the  plateau  on  which  stood  the  Tad- 
more  homestead,  to  Forest  Glen,  a  scattered  vil- 
lage fringing  the  shore  of  the  Ohio.  The  dis- 
tance from  the  hilltop  to  the  town  was  somewhat 
more  than  a  mile,  as  measured  by  the  crooked 
road  of  steep  grade  which  the  care-free  pedes- 
trians followed.  They  passed  up  the  main 
street,  by  the  drug  store,  the  Baptist  Church,  the 
Union  School  House, — then  down  a  cross-street 
running  to  the  river.  On  a  conspicuous  corner 
stood  a  two-story  frame  building,  over  the  door 
of  which  was  painted  the  sign,  "  People's  Saloon. 
By  Mike  McStaver."  Upon  the  pavement  near 
the  entrance  were  several  empty  beer-kegs  one 
of  which  was  utilized  as  a  convenient  seat  by  a 
lazy  youth,  neither  boy  nor  man,  who,  wearing 
striped  pantaloons,  a  soiled  linen  coat,  and  a 
cheap  wheat-straw  hat,  was  smoking  a  "  Slim 
Jim  "  cigar,  while  he  listened  to  some  confiden- 
tial communication  from  a  not  uncomely,  gig- 
gling damsel  standing  in  the  doorway.  Another 
girl,  of  bolder  face,  thrusting  her  head  and 

27 


28  TOM  TAD 

shoulders  from,  a  second  story  window,  was  in 
the  act  of  calling  down  to  her  sister,  when  Tom 
and  his  uncle  walked  by. 

"  Oh  Rache !    Come  right  in !     Pa  wants  you." 

"I'll  come  when  I'm  ready,"  replied  the 
nymph  of  the  doorstep, — "and  not  a  minute 
before." 

The  excursionists  paid  no  attention  to  the  pert 
young  women  who  stared  at  them  saucily,  but 
Tom  exchanged  nods  with  the  slovenly  loafer  on 
the  beer-keg. 

"  Barclay's  got  a  new  hat,"  remarked  he,  after 
they  had  passed  the  People's  Saloon. 

Continuing  their  tramp  they  could  see,  not  far 
in  the  distance,  a  peculiar  low  structure  like  a 
small  hut  or  cabin,  half-hidden  from  view  by  a 
clump  of  black  willows. 

"  Hello ! "  cried  Tom ;  "  we  are  coming  to  the 
river!  Do  you  see  that  shanty -boat?  That's 
where  Sam  Noggle  lives !  There,  I  believe  I  see 
Sam  Noggle  now,  walking  along  on  the  sand. 
No;  that  can't  be  Sam, — Sam  don't  walk  so 
slow,  and  he  isn't  so  small.  Oh,  I  bet  I  know 
who  it  is!  It's  Squinty!  You  know  Squinty 
Kunkle,  don't  you,  Uncle  Felix  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  you  describe  him,  Tom.  You 
appear  to  be  well  acquainted  with  boys  of  all 
sizes,  colors  and  classes." 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  all  the  fellows  know  all  the 
other  fellows." 


SQUINTY  RUNKLE  29 

A  few  minutes'  walk  brought  the  pair  to  the 
river  bank,  and  close  to  the  shanty-boat.  The 
long,  narrow,  weather-worn  craft  was  covered 
by  a  slightly  arched  roof  of  tarred  paper,  through 
which,  at  one  end,  a  section  of  rusty  stove-pipe 
protruded.  The  roof  was  cumbered  with  trump- 
ery, broken  furniture,  cracked  crocks,  worn-out 
boots  and  shoes.  Faint  traces  of  color,  still  ad- 
hering to  the  least  exposed  weather-boards,  told 
that  the  vessel  had  once  been  painted  green ; 
and  some  almost  effaced  large  letters  in  Venetian 
red,  showed  that  the  name  of  the  boat  was 
The  Nelly  Barton.  Silence  reigned  in  the 
precincts  of  the  amphibious  house,  and  the  loiter- 
ing man  and  boy  concluded  that  nobody  was  at 
home.  They  continued  their  stroll,  along  the 
gravelly  margin  of  the  Ohio. 

"  What  has  become  of  your  friend  Runkle  ?  " 
"  Squinty  ?  "  laughed  Tom.  "  Maybe  he  has 
blown  away.  You  never  know  what  has  become 
of  him.  Seems  to  me  he  vanishes,  like  ghosts 
and  fairies.  He's  afraid  of  everybody  except 
Sam  Noggle.  Squinty  don't  live  anywheres  in 
particular,  and  Sam  sort  of  takes  care  of  him  and 
does  his  fighting,  and  keeps  the  toughs  from 
teasing  him  too  much.  They  say  Barclay  Snooks 
watches  for  Squinty,  in  scary  places,  just  to  jump 
out  at  him  and  make  him  screech.  Squinty 
hasn't  much  sense ;  he  believes  everything,  and 
kind  of  dreads  everybody.  But  I  don't  think  he 


30  TOM  TAD 

hates  me.  I'll  see  if  I  can't  coax  him  here. 
— Hay,  there !  Squinty !  I've  got  something  for 
you.  Come  this  way." 

The  boy  thus  summoned  came  slowly  shuffling 
along,  but  he  halted  when  within  a  dozen  paces 
of  Tom. 

"Here's  an  apple  for  you,"  continued  Tom, 
holding  up  the  tempting  fruit.  "  Come  and  get 
it." 

Squinty  advanced  a  few  paces,  and  stood  ir- 
resolute. Uncle  Felix  spoke  in  a  pleasant  tone, 
and  offered  him  a  dime.  At  length  the  timid 
urchin  sidled  up  and  got  the  coin  and  the  apple. 

"Where's  Sam?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Gone  to  fetch  his  mother." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"Saloon.     Drunk." 

"  Have  you  seen  Barclay,  to-day  ?  " 

Squinty  was  silent. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  of  us,"  said  Tom. 
"We  only  just  want  to  talk  with  you." 

"Barclay  runned  away." 

"  Who  said  so  ?  " 

"  Seneca  did.  Seneca  said  Barclay  was  afeard 
he  would  git  took  up  fer  shootin'  Charley  Blog- 
son.  Seneca  said  he  heern  Charley  Blogson  was 
dead.  Seneca  he  said  Barclay  mought  be 
stringed  up,  Seneca  he  said." 

"  I  reckon  they  will  string  him  up,  if  Charley 
is  dead,"  remarked  Uncle  Felix,  in  a  solemn 


SQUINTY  RUNKLE  31 

manner  highly  amusing  to  Tom.  "  But  we  must 
be  going  on,  or  we  shall  not  find  any  arrow- 
heads. Good-bye,  Squinty. — Give  him  another 
apple,  Tom." 

Tom  did  as  directed,  and  he  and  his  uncle  re- 
sumed their  walk. 

They  sauntered  on  leisurely,  keeping  near  the 
water's  edge,  stooping  now  and  then  to  pick  up 
a  tinted  shell  or  a  choice  specimen  of  coral. 

"Uncle,  you  are  a  pretty  smart  man,  ain't 
you  ?  "  was  the  abrupt  way  in  which  Tom  opened 
conversation,  when  the  two  had  walked  some 
distance  in  silence. 

"  I'm  hardly  smart  enough  to  answer  that  ques- 
tion, Tom.  You  must  ask  something  easier." 

"  Yes,  but  now,  without  joking,  you  know  you 
are  smart.  Most  of  my  relations  is  smart.  They 
are  nearly  all  some  sort  of  men.  I'm  going  to  be 
some  sort  of  a  man  myself." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you." 

"  "Why,  I  mean  kind  of  important,  and  not  no 
account.  There's  you  are  a  doctor,  and  what 
they  call  a  jackass  at  all  trades.  And  pa  is  a 
trustee  ;  and  a  kind  of  miser-like " 

"  No,  not  a  miser,  my  boy ;  your  father  is  a 
very  liberal  man.  A  miser  is  one  who  hoards  up 
money.  A  miser  is  stingy." 

"And  there's  Uncle  Bob,  out  in  St.  Louis, 
Frank's  pa, — he  is  a  lawyer ;  and  so  on.  They 
are  all  some  sort  of  men.  I'd  like  to  be  a  great 


32  TOM  TAD 

natural  like  Buffoon,  or  Herbert  Darwin,  that 
you  told  me  about." 

"A  great  naturalist,  you  should  say,  not  a 
natural.  Look  in  the  dictionary  and  you  will 
find  that  a  natural  is  a  fool, — an  idiot.  You 
didn't  remember  right  about  the  names,  either. 
It  was  Buffon,  not  Buffoon.  Mr.  Darwin's  first 
name  was  Charles.  I  told  you  that  Cuvier  was  a 
famous  naturalist,  and  Agassiz  another." 

"  Yes,  he  is  the  one  who  invented  the  human 
specie,  wasn't  it  ?  Or  was  that  Mr.  Huxley  ?  " 

"  These  subjects  are  rather  difficult  for  a  boy. 
You  had  better  observe  the  things  that  are  near 
at  hand,  actual  objects,  birds,  fishes,  stones, 
grass.  You  can  take  up  books  later." 

"Uncle  Felix,  I  know  most  of  the  common 
bugs  about  here.  There's  the  potato-bug." 

"  That's  a  beetle,  not  a  bug." 

"  And  there's  the  bed-beetle." 

"No,  no,  Tom,  that's  no  beetle,  but  a  real 
bug." 

"And  I  know  the  sow-bug,  or  is  that  a 
beetle?" 

"  What  you  call  a  sow-bug  is  neither  a  bug  nor 
a  beetle ;  it  is  an  isopod  crustacean." 

"  I  believe  it  is,"  said  Tom,  "  now  I  come  to 

think, — or  a Look !  there  is  a  shite-poke  ! 

"Wisht  I  had  a  gun. — I  saw  a  crane  the  last  time 
I  was  down  here.  You  don't  see  cranes  very 
often." 


SQUINTY  KUNKLE  33 

As  Tom  said  this  the  attention  of  the  two  was 
drawn  to  a  water-fowl  which  flew  swiftly  by, 
and,  descending  suddenly  to  the  surface  of  the 
river,  made  a  quick  plunge,  and  disappeared. 

"  That's  a  hell-diver,"  explained  Tom.  "  There 
he  comes  up.  He's  as  quick  as  lightning.  You 
can't  hit  a  hell-diver,  for  when  he  sees  the  flash 
of  your  gun,  he  dives  out  of  sight." 

"  "What  you  call  a  hell-diver  is  a  species  of 
wild  duck." 

"  Of  course  ;  anybody  knows  that,"  said  Tom, 
who  always  made  the  most  of  his  own  knowl- 
edge, and  the  least  of  other  people's.  "  Haven't 
we  come  to  the  place  where  the  arrow-heads 
are?" 

"  There  at  the  bend  of  the  river,  not  far  from 
that  gum-tree  on  the  bank  of  Glen  Creek.  The 
place  is  rich  in  arrow-heads.  I  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  Indians  had  what  might 
be  called  a  flint  factory  in  this  locality.  Keep 
your  eyes  open,  and  look  sharp.  I'll  give  you 
ten  cents  for  every  perfect  specimen  you  find." 

"When  they  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  gum- 
tree  the  search  for  arrow-heads  was  continued 
diligently,  but  with  unsatisfactory  results.  Tom 
found  numerous  fragments,  which  gave  evidence 
of  having  been  chipped  off  by  some  tool,  and  the 
trained  eye  of  Uncle  Felix  discovered  two  or 
three  small  stone  darts. 

"We  are  not  having  very  good  luck,"  said  he. 


34:  TOM  TAD 

"  Shall  we  sit  down  and  rest  awhile  ?  "We  have 
walked  a  long  way.  The  shanty-boat  is  scarcely 
visible.  There  is  somebody  who  seems  to  be 
watching  us." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Tom,  "  it's  Squinty  again. 
He  has  followed  us.  Now  he  is  turning  back ;  I 
guess  he  sees  us  looking  at  him." 

Squinty  had  not  lost  sight  of  the  arrow- 
hunters  or  their  basket.  Keeping  at  what  he 
considered  a  safe  distance,  he  followed  after 
them  in  a  slinking  manner,  like  a  dog  which, 
having  been  driven  back,  still  entertains  a  for- 
lorn hope  that  its  master  will  relent  and  whistle 
permission  for  it  to  come  on.  While  Felix  and 
Tom  were  regarding  the  boy  with  some  curiosity, 
they  saw  him  stop  and  stand  irresolute,  kicking 
the  sand  with  his  bare  feet. 

"  Let's  pretend  not  to  notice  him,"  said  Tom, 
"  and  go  on  hunting  for  specimunds,  and  like  as 
not  he  will  sneak  up  close  to  us.  Isn't  it  fun  to 
hear  him  talk  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  replied  the  uncle,  with  a  touch 
of  sadness.  "  Poor  fellow." 

"  He's  happy.  He  don't  have  to  go  to  school 
at  all.  And  he  never  needs  to  dress  up,  or 
anything." 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  Squinty  drew 
near,  by  cautious  degrees,  keeping  an  eye  on  the 
dinner-basket ;  and,  imitating  the  others,  he 
moved  slowly  around  with  back  bent  and  eyes 


SQUINTY  KUNKLE  35 

fixed  upon  the  ground,  seeking  he  knew  not 
what.  At  length  he  approached  Dr.  Eldon, 
holding  in  his  fingers  a  bit  of  anthracite  coal. 
The  naturalist  took  the  valuable  relic,  and  ex- 
plained that  the  object  of  search  was  to  find 
arrow-heads,  samples  of  which  were  shown.  No 
sooner  did  Squinty's  slow  eyes  rest  upon  the 
samples,  than  his  countenance  lighted  up  with 
gladness.  Turning  to  Tom  and  grinning,  he  de- 
livered himself  of  the  potent  expletive, — 
"Gosh!" 

Without  another  word,  he  started  off  at  a 
rapid  pace,  in  a  straight  line,  nor  did  he  halt  un- 
til he  came  to  a  small  point  of  ground  near  the 
mouth  of  the  little  stream  that  flowed  into  the 
Ohio.  There  he  paused  and,  turning,  beckoned 
Uncle  Felix  who,  with  Tom  at  his  side,  hurried 
to  the  spot.  Squinty  pointed  out  a  crevice  be- 
tween two  large  stones.  Tom  made  haste  to 
inspect  the  crevice.  It  contained  more  than 
twenty  very  fine  specimens  of  spear  points  and 
arrow-heads,  of  various  sizes  and  shapes.  Squinty 
had  picked  them  up  in  childish  wonderment  and 
had  deposited  them  in  that  secret  place,  not  hav- 
ing the  least  idea  of  their  value. 

"What  will  you  take  for  them?"  asked  the 
doctor,  putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket.  Squinty 
made  no  reply,  but  looked  hard  at  the  dinner- 
basket.  Acting  on  this  hint,  Tom  gave  him  sev- 
eral biscuits,  and  Eldon  handed  a  silver  dollar  to 


36  TOM  TAD 

the  hungry  boy,  who  for  the  second  time  said, 
"  Gosh ! "  then  immediately  turned  westward 
and  scampered  away  not  looking  to  right  or  left. 
On  went  Squinty,  due  west,  down  along  the  river 
bank,  over  the  sand  and  gravel.  Tom  and  his 
uncle  watched  the  retreating  figure  until  it  was 
lost  beyond  a  bend  in  the  river. 


VII 

THE  SHANTY-BOAT   SURPRISE 

"  SQUINTY  RUNKLE  isn't  such  a  bad  natural, 
is  he,  uncle  ?  He  beats  us  finding  things." 

"  That's  true,  Tom.  And  he  is  wiser  than  we 
in  another  way.  He  knows  enough  to  avoid  be- 
ing caught  out  in  the  rain.  "We  have  kept  our 
eyes  so  close  to  the  ground  that  we  have  forgot- 
ten the  sky.  How  the  clouds  have  gathered  ! 
Look !  What  angry  flashes  of  lightning  there 
beyond  the  Kentucky  hills!  We  must  seek 
shelter,  for  it's  going  to  storm." 

A  peal  of  thunder  confirmed  these  words. 
Every  aspect  of  the  sky  and  token  of  the  air  in- 
dicated that  the  valley  was  soon  to  be  visited  by 
one  of  those  sudden  thunder-gusts  to  which  the 
region  is  subject  in  summer.  The  excursionists 
took  up  their  basket  and  walked  briskly  towards 
the  shanty-boat,  following  the  tracks  of  Squinty. 
A  delightful  breeze  was  blowing  up  the  valley. 
But  the  sky  was  entirely  overcast  with  dark 
clouds,  and  the  sullen  waters  of  the  broad  river 
looked  like  molten  lead.  The  wreck  of  a  half- 
sunk  coal  barge  lay  near  the  shore.  Passing 

•  37 


38  TOM  TAD 

this,  Tom's  sharp  eye  caught  sight  of  a  small 
animal  swimming  towards  the  boat. 

"  There's  a  mus'rat,"  shouted  he  in  his  usual 
excited  fashion.  "  The  ign'rant  folks  down  here 
by  the  river  calls  it  '  mush-rat.' ': 

"  You  say  the  right  name  is  mus-rat,  do  you  ?  " 

"Yes;  mus-rat,  not  mush-rat.  There's  no 
mush  about  it.  These  ign'rant  folks  don't  know 
no  better.  They  can't  pronounce  worth  a  cent." 

"I  am  sorry  for  them,"  quietly  replied  the 
uncle. 

The  storm  made  such  progress  that  by  the  time 
the  hurrying  man  and  boy  arrived  opposite  the 
shanty-boat,  the  rain  was  falling.  "Without  cere- 
mony, they  ran  down  to  the  floating  structure 
and  stepped  aboard.  A  door  leading  from  the 
front  platform  to  the  main  room  was  wide  open. 
To  avoid  a  wetting,  Dr.  Eldon  made  bold  to  step 
inside  this  door,  at  the  same  time  knocking  and 
calling  out. 

A  small  girl,  perhaps  six  years  of  age,  sat  on 
the  floor  of  the  cabin.  She  made  no  attempt  to 
move,  but  stared  vacantly  at  the  visitors.  At 
the  farther  end  of  the  room  was  a  low  bed  upon 
which  lay  an  old  man  with  abundant  gray  hair. 
His  face  was  very  pale. 

The  unexpected  visitors  were  at  a  loss  what  to 
say  or  do.  Tom  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Are  you  hungry  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  girl. 

She  nodded  her  head.     Tom  thrust  his  hand 


THE  SHANTY-BOAT  SURPRISE       39 

into  the  basket.  Though  his  sympathies  were 
stirred,  he  did  not  entirely  forget  himself,  but 
providently  slipped  two  biscuits  into  his  own 
pocket  before  handing  one  to  the  girl.  She  took 
the  biscuit  and  bit  from  it  a  huge  mouthful. 
When  she  had  swallowed  this  and  was  raising 
the  biscuit  to  her  mouth  to  take  another  bite, 
Tom  interjected  a  question. 

"  Is  your  name  Noggle  ?  n 

Again  the  girl  nodded. 

"  Sam's  sister  ?  " 

The  same  sign  of  assent. 

"  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Mandy." 

"  Who  is  that  on  the  bed  ?  " 

"  Gran'dad." 

Dr.  Eldon  stepped  to  the  bedside  and  felt  the 
pulse  of  the  old  man  who  rolled  his  eyes  wearily 
but  said  nothing. 

"A  very  sick  man.  We  have  got  ourselves 
into  business,  Tom,  my  boy.  We  must  take 
care  of  these  folks. — How  the  rain  pours 
down ! " 

The  next  instant  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning 
filled  the  place  with  a  brightness  so  dazzling  that 
Tom  shrank  with  terror.  A  crash  of  thunder 
followed.  While  the  awful  sound  was  rumbling 
away  in  the  distance,  a  voice  was  heard  wailing 
and  moaning,  and  an  apparition  darkened  the  door. 
There  stood  a  woman,  drenched  with  rain,  be- 


40  TOM  TAD 

draggled,  bare-headed,  her  loose  black  hair 
straggling  down  her  shoulders  and  back.  She 
was  in  the  last  stages  of  intoxication,  and  was 
held  from  falling  and  pushed  forward  into  the 
shanty  by  a  youth  whom  Tom  recognized  as 
Sam  Noggle.  The  sight  of  strangers  seemed  to 
recall  the  drunken  woman's  senses,  partially. 
She  stared  at  Felix,  then  at  Tom,  and,  sinking 
down  upon  the  floor  in  a  confused  heap,  muttered 
incoherent  words : 

"  Go  away — go  away — see  the  dandy — see  the 
dandy — go  away — where' s  Sam's  baby  ? — Sam's 
baby — Sam's  baby — dead  again — dead  again — go 
away — go  'way." 

Sam  Koggle  frowned  fiercely  at  the  uninvited 
guests  before  him. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  lad,  we  came  in  out  of  the  rain," 
said  Eldon. 

"  Don't  call  me  your  lad.  I'm  not  your  lad.  I 
want  you  to  get  out  of  this." 

"  But  it's  raining  rather  hard  to  go  out  just 
now." 

"  You've  no  business  in  here.  Nobody  asked 
you  here.  Nobody  wants  you.  This  is  my 
house.  If  you  don't  go  out,  I'll  make  you !  If 
you  don't  go  out,  I'll  kill  you !  " 

Eldon,  surprised  at  the  boy's  violence,  though 
admiring  his  spirit,  proffered  a  conciliatory  hand 
which  Sam,  instead  of  accepting,  struck  at  with 


AN    APPARITION    DAKKKNKI)    THK    DOOK 


THE  SHANTY-BOAT  SURPRISE       41 

clenched  fist.  The  doctor's  steady  gaze  kindly 
met  the  flashing  eyes  of  the  boy. 

"  Let  us  be  friends,  Sam.  Your  grandfather 
wants  my  help.  He  needs  medicine.  I  think, 
too,  I  can  be  of  some  service  to  your  sick 
mother." 

Touched  by  the  manifest  sincerity  of  this  ap- 
peal, the  passionate  lad  cast  his  eyes  downward 
and  fixed  them  upon  the  degraded  woman  at  his 
feet.  His  breast  labored,  he  sobbed,  and  tears  of 
humiliation  stole  down  his  brown  cheeks.  Tom 
stared  blinkingly  at  the  low  ceiling.  A  beam 
of  sunshine  suddenly  streamed  in  through  a  nar- 
row window  of  the  shanty,  for  the  storm  had 
passed  as  rapidly  as  it  had  come  on.  So  also,  it 
seemed,  had  subsided  the  tempest  in  Sam  toggle's 
clouded  mind. 

"I  wish  you  would  try  to  cure  gran'daddy. 
He's  been  sick  for  a  week.  I  can  take  care  of 
mother.  You  mustn't  mind  what  I  said.  I 
couldn't  stand  it  to  have  you  see  — 

"  Where  is  your  father,  Sam  ?  " 

"  He  has  gone  to  Flee'town  to  help  unload  coal 
barges.  I'm  glad  he's  not  here." 

Dr.  Eldon  had  some  further  talk  with  Sam, 
advising  him  what  was  best  to  be  done  for  the 
sick  old  man,  and  promising  to  provide  for  the 
wants  of  the  family.  The  visitors  then  took 
their  departure.  Tom  made  it  convenient  to 
forget  the  basket,  leaving  it  at  the  feet  of 


42  TOM  TAD 

Mandy.  As  he  was  making  his  way  from  the 
shanty-boat  to  the  shore,  across  a  gangplank,  a 
lank  dog  followed  close  upon  his  heels,  sniffing 
at  his  pocket.  Tom  drew  forth  one  of  the  two 
biscuits  and  tossed  it  to  the  dog. 

"  Everybody  about  here  seems  to  be  hungry. 
Now  I've  only  got  one  biscuit  left  and  you  and  I 
haven't  had  a  bite  to  eat  since  we  left  home. 
Here,  uncle,  you  take  the  upper  half  of  this  and 
I'll  take  the  lower  half." 


VIII 

TOM  TAKES  A  LESSON  IN  GEBMAN 

TOM  failed  not  to  tell  Fritz  Haberkorn  what 
befell  at  the  Noggle  shanty,  and  to  dilate  on  the 
kindness  of  Uncle  Felix. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Fritz,  if  I  do  say  it  myself, 
he  is  the  Christianest  man  in  this  neighborhood ; 
and  he  don't  brag  about  it,  neither.  There  never 
was  a  man  who  was  kinder  to  the  poor  unless  it 
might  be  mother." 

"  Your  uncle  vas  like  a  man  in  my  country.  I 
rode  about  him  in  the  almanac.  He  vas — vat 
you  call  him  ? — a  Sam-a-ree-tan." 

"A  what?" 

"  A  goot  Sam-a-ree-tan." 

Tom  had  a  faint  recollection  that  in  Sunday- 
school  he  also  had  "rode"  about  the  Good 
Samaritan. 

"  I  tell  you  dot  story.  Vas  a  man,  by  golly, 
going  along  der  road,  und,  vat  you  tink?  five 
oder  six  tief  shump  right  away  out  mit  a 
bistols  und  knock  him  dot  head  on,  und  pull  him 
dot  coat  off,  und  run  avay  mit  hees  monee.  He 
vas  all  bleedin',  und  pooty  nigh  dead,  und  a 
breacher  coomt  his  buggy  in " 

43 


44  TOM  TAD 

"  "What  came  in  a  buggy,  Fritz  ?  " 

"  Ein  breacher, — vat  you  call  der  briest  ?  " 

"  Preacher !     Oh !     Go  on." 

"  Ya.  Dot  breacher  see  dot  man  und  say  to 
heesself,  *  By  golly,  vat's  dot  ? '  Und  he  vip  up 
hees  pony  und  drive  fast  avay  by  de  uder  side. 
Pooty  soon  coomt  a  pig,  rich  lawyer,  mit  a  golt 
cane,  und  see  dot  poor  man  a  bleedin',  und  he 
look  at  him  und  go  right  avay  by  de  uder  side. 
Veil.  Pooty  soon  coomt  dot  Sam-a-ree-tan  vat  I 
told  you,  und  ven  he  see  dot  man, — he  vas  ridin' 
a  leetle  mool, — he  says  '  Donner  und  Blitzen ! ' 
und  shumpt  right  avay  dot  mool  off,  und  schtoop 
down  und  put  some  oil  or  so  on  hees  vounds,  und 
tie  um  up  mit  hees  handkerchief,  und  took  out 
hees  viskey  bottle  und  make  dot  dead  man  trink 
leetle,  und  say,  '  Mein  Freund,  shust  shump  dot 
mool  on,'  und  help  him  ons  dot  leetle  mool.  Ya 
wohl !  By  golly,  vat  you  tink  ?  Right  avay 
dey  vas  coom  by  der  Gast  House,  oder  tafern, — 
vat  you  call  saloon,  und  dees  goot  Sam-a-ree-tan 
say,  '  Hi !  Hello  !  you  land-lort.  Take  care  dees 
man.  You  gief  him  vat  he  need, — some  wurst 
oder  beer,  und  put  him  in  bett.  Hier  ist  der 
monee.  You  shust  treat  him  like  a  shentlemans, 
und  by  golly,  ven  I  coom  back  to-morrow  I  pay 
hees  doctor  pill.'  Dot  Sam-a-ree-tan  vas  like 
your  Uncle  Felix,  nit  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  was,  Fritz.  Only  Uncle  Felix  doesn't 
ride  a  mule  nor  carry  a  whiskey  bottle.  Fritz, 


A  LESSON  IN  GEKMAN  45 

you  speak  mighty  good  English  for  a  man  of 
your  age.  I'd  like  to  talk  German  as  well  as 
you  can  talk  English.  I  wish  you  would  learn 
me  the  German  language. 

"  "What's  boy  in  German  ?  " 

"Knabe." 

"  And  girl  ?  " 

"  Madchen." 

"  That  sounds  like  maiden.    What's  father  ?  " 

"Vater." 

"  And  mother  ?  " 

"  Mutter." 

"What's  sister?" 

"  Schwester." 

"  And  brother  ?  " 

"  Bruder." 

"  Why,  Fritz,  that's  all  pretty  much  the  same 
as  English,  only  you  don't  pronounce  the  words 
quite  right.  Fater,  Mutter,  Swester,  Brutter  /  I 
can  say  that  as  well  as  you  can.  I  think  I've 
got  the  hang  of  the  language,  and  I  won't  need 
to  take  many  lessons.  Now  I'll  try  you.  I'll 
ask  you  something  in  German  and  see  if  you  can 
understand  me.  Let's  see. — 'Ister  Grander 
Fater  Bartoner  sicker  ? '  Can  you  make  that 
out?" 

Fritz  shook  his  head  and  said,  "  Nein." 

"  Wait,  Fritz,  I'U  put  it  in  English.  I'll  say  it 
slow.  '  Ister,'  is,  '  Granderfater,'  grandfather, 
'Bartoner,'  JBarton,  'Sicker,'  sick.  Is  grand- 


46  TOM  TAD 

father  Barton  sicJcf  Do  you  understand 
that?" 

Yes,  Fritz  understood  that. 

"Why,  then,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  under- 
stand English  better  than  you  do  your  own 
foreign  tongue ! "  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Let's  hear 
how  you  would  ask  me  if  my  grandfather  is 
sick?" 

"  1st  dein  Grossvater  krank  ?  " 

" '  Crank  ! '  Is  my  grandfather  a  crank  ? 
You  are  getting  off  the  subject,  Fritz.  But  I 
s'pose  it  will  be  easier  for  you  to  speak  English, 
now,  anyhow,  for  you've  been  in  the  United 
States  a  good  while.  This  country  beats  Ger- 
many all  to  smash,  don't  it  ?  You  are  welcome 
to  this  native  land.  I  'spect  you  have  seen  some 
of  them  tyrants  over  there  in  Europe,  haven't 
you  ?  But  you  are  out  of  the  way  of  their 
chains  now  in  this  free  land  of  liberty,  and  I  bet 
you  are  not  afraid  to  stand  by  your  red,  white 
and  blue,  or  plunge  in  the  cannon's  mouth  and 
fight  till  the  last  armed  and  last  legged  foe  ex- 
pires, like  Morocco  Bowarrows." 


IX 

TOM  IGNORES  SOCIAL  DISTINCTIONS 

DR.  ELDON  kept  his  promise  to  Sam  Noggle. 
Daily  he  went  down  to  the  shanty-boat  and  gave 
his  personal  attention  to  the  family  whose 
miserable  condition  he  had  accidentally  dis- 
covered. Moreover,  he  enlisted  the  cooperation 
of  the  Tadmores,  one  and  all,  in  his  benevolent 
schemes. 

Boxes  of  eatables  and  bales  of  wearables  were 
sent  to  the  destitute  occupants  of  The  Nelly 
Barton.  Mr.  Tadmore  was  persuaded  by  his 
wife  and  daughter  to  exert  himself  in  the 
philanthropic  enterprise,  and  his  influence  se- 
cured for  Peter  Noggle  employment  with  fair 
wages,  in  a  lumber-yard  at  Forest  Glen. 

More  than  a  week  elapsed  before  Uncle  Felix 
would  allow  Tom  to  accompany  him  on  a  visit 
to  the  Noggles',  though  Tom  had  continually 
teased  to  go  along.  When  he  did  go  he  had  a 
long  talk  with  Sam  who  took  him  out  for  a  boat- 
ride  and  showed  him  the  wreck  of  a  burned 
steamer.  In  the  evening  when  Tom  came  home, 
his  mother  took  occasion  to  question  him  in 

47 


48  TOM  TAT) 

regard  to  his  day's  doings,  as  was  her  custom. 
Hannah  was  present  at  the  interview. 

"  Well,  tell  us  about  your  visit  to  the  shanty- 
folks.  Did  you  see  Mandy  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  go  in  the  boat.  I  hated  to  see  the 
lady,"  said  Tom.  "  But  I  got  pretty  thick  with 
Sam.  "We  went  out  on  the  river  in  a  skiff  and 
talked  a  heap.  I'd  like  to  live  in  a  boat.  It 
must  be  lots  of  fun.  It's  like  camping  out. 
Then  you  can  fish  so  handy.  Sam's  got  a  dog. 
What  do  you  think,  mother,  Sam  hatched  a 
dozen  chickens  right  in  the  boat ;  that  is,  he 
didn't  hatch  them  himself,  but  the  old  hen  did, 
in  the  coop,  plumb  in  the  house.  But  a  mus'rat 
got  nine  of  the  chickens." 

"  What  does  Sam  do  f  How  does  he  put  in 
the  time  ?  " 

"  He  fishes,  and  shoots  ducks,  and  goes  a  swim- 
min'.  When  the  water  is  up  he  helps  his  daddy 
pull  in  drift.  They  use  it  for  wood.  All  sorts 
of  curious  things  float  down.  But  you  can't 
guess  what  Sam  fished  out  one  time." 

"What  was  it?" 

"  A  dead  suicide." 

"  Why  Tommy !  "  exclaimed  Han,  with  a  hor- 
rified countenance. 

"  Yes,  he  did.  He  had  to  go  to  the  corner  with 
his  daddy." 

"  You  mean  coroner." 

"  Yes,  coroner  ;  what  did  I  say  ?    I  meant  cor- 


IGNORES  SOCIAL  DISTINCTION     49 

oner,  of  course.  Do  you  know,  Han,  how  they 
make  a  sunk  corpse  that's  drownded  come  up 
from  the  bottom  ?  " 

"  I've  heard  that  they  fire  a  cannon  over  the 
place.  Don't  they,  mother  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  my  dear.  But  it's  not  a  pleasant 
thing  to  think  about." 

"  I  hate  to  think  about  it,  and  I  hate  to  hear 
about  it,  and  I  hate  to  talk  about  it,"  said  Tom, 
with  a  visage  of  disgust ;  "  but  there's  a  better 
way  than  the  cannon  way  to  fetch  'em  up.  If 
you  can  just  get  a  shirt  that  belongs  to  the 
drownded  floater,  and  tie  up  a  loaf  of  dry  bread 
in  it,  and  chuck  it  in  the  water,  it  will  draw 
right  to  the  spot  where  the  dead  corpse  is  and 
sink  down  to  him." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  ?  "  asked  Han. 

" '  Course  I  do.  Sam  says  so.  They  tried  it 
when  their  baby  was  drownded  but  it  didn't  work, 
'cause  the  baby  didn't  have  the  right  sort  of  a 
shirt.  "Wasn't  it  awful  about  that  baby  drownd- 
ing  ?  It  was  a  girl  baby,  Sam  says." 

"  How  did  it  happen,  and  when  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  when.  Sam  didn't  say  when. 
A  good  while  ago,  I  guess.  His  mother  dropped 
it  into  the  river  when  she  was  intoxicated.  She 
didn't  know  what  she  was  doing.  But  it  was 
clean  drownded  plumb  dead  and  they  never  saw 
it  afterwards.  Sam  says  seems  like  his  mother 
has  been  sort  of  crazy-like  ever  since.  He  says 


50  TOM  TAD 

she  talks  about  it  when  she's  asleep.  She  al- 
ways calls  it '  Sam's  baby.' " 

"  This  is  dreadful,"  said  Mrs.  Tadmore. 

"  Sam  cried  a  little.  He  said  he  saved  a  baby's 
life  that  night  of  the  steamboat  burning,  and  he 
felt  like  stealing  the  baby  for  his  mother.  His 
mother  is  real  nice  when  she  isn't  drinking.  He 
asked  me  one  queer  thing.  I  felt  mad,  at  first, 
but  my,  he  didn't  mean  any  harm.  He  asked  me 
about  our  folks,  and  how  we  act,  and  he  says, 
1  Tom,  does  your  mother  ever  take  too  much  ? ' 
'  Too  much  what  ? '  says  I.  '  Why,  too  much 
liquor,'  says  he.  '  I'll  knock  you  into  the  river,' 
says  I.  *  I  thought,'  says  he,  '  that  you  and  me 
was  good  friends,  now,  and  I'd  ask  you  that,  for 
I  sometimes  wish  some  swell  lady  did  take  too 
much  so's  I  needn't  be  so  'shamed  about  mother. 
But  I'm  glad  your  mother  don't  get  drunk,  and  I 
don't  care  if  you  do  knock  me  in  the  river,  for 
it's  my  notion  that  the  baby  has  got  the  best  of 
it.'  After  a  bit  he  cheered  up  and  showed  me  a 
dog-type  of  his  mother  when  she  was  a  little 
girl." 

"  Tou  should  say  daguerreotype ;  I  suppose  that 
is  what  he  meant." 

"  He  calls  it  a  '  dog-type.'  It  is  a  sort  of  dim, 
looking-glass  picture  in  a  case  that  shuts  up. 
You  never  saw  such  a  pretty  face!  I  couldn't 
hardly  believe  Sam's  mother  was  that  beautiful. 
Near  'bout  as  nice  looking  as  Han." 


TOM  AND   FRITZ   CONVERSE 

THOMAS  TADMORE  was  sociable  to  a  fault. 
The  number  and  variety  of  his  familiar  acquaint- 
ances astonished  his  mother.  Like  Socrates,  this 
young  American  philosopher  was  ever  wishing  to 
converse  with  mankind,  and  would  even  be  will- 
ing to  pay  for  a  good  listener.  Like  Socrates,  he 
had  a  high  opinion  of  his  own  shrewdness  and 
was  fond  of  a  sly  joke.  Nothing  pleased  him 
better  than  to  display  his  learning  to  those  whom 
he  imagined  ignorant,  especially  to  those  who  re- 
ceived his  scientific  facts  and  doctrines  with 
wonder  and  admiration. 

Among  his  docile  pupils  was  Fritz  Haberkorn. 
One  morning  the  indispensable  Fritz  was  sawing 
and  hammering  in  a  natural  arbor  called  the 
"  Centennial  Bower,"  constructing  a  rustic  bench 
of  ironwood,  ornamented  with  grape-vine,  when 
Tom  accosted  him : 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Fritz  ?  " 
"  I  make  a  bench  for  your  mutter." 
"  It's  an  awful  nice  one,"  said  Tom,  surveying 
the  structure  approvingly.     "Easy,  too,"  added 
he,  sitting  down  upon  it. 

51 


52  TOM  TAD 

"  Here,"  said  Fritz,  taking  something  from  the 
pocket  of  his  coat  which  hung  near  by  on  a 
hackberry  limb.  "  Here  is  somedings  vat  I  tig 
up  mit  der  shpade  ven  I  tig  der  shpring  out." 
Tom  examined  the  object.  It  was  a  specimen  of 
coral  of  the  variety  called,  in  the  hard  language 
of  geology,  Cyathophyllum.  "Dot  vas  a  calf's 
horn  turned  to  shtone,  eh  ?  " 

Tom  looked  wise.  "  JSTo ;  this  is  a  putrefaction. 
There's  a  good  many  such  about  here.  I  found 
a  new  sort  of  organic  remain  the  other  day  in 
the  quarry.  It  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  gaster- 
pod,  but  the  gaster-peas  was  all  shelled  out.  It's 
a  trilobite." 

"  Vare  did  it  bite  you  ?  "  inquired  Fritz. 

"  Trilobite,  I  say.  They  are  putrefied,  also. 
We  use  them  for  charms.  Geology  treats  trilo- 
bites.  Geology  is  a  splendid  study ;  it  tells  all 
about  stratums  and  strikes  and  outcrops.  Char- 
ley Blogson  and  me  discovered  five  unknown 
Silurians  that  I  labeled  Specimenicus  Tadii. 
They  used  to  be  alive  about  ten  quintillion  years 
ago." 

Fritz  Haberkorn  listened  to  Tom  profoundly 
mystified.  The  voluble  Master  Tadmore  ap- 
peared to  think  his  talk  quite  lucid  and  edifying. 
Thrusting  his  hands  deep  into  his  trousers' 
pockets,  he  went  on : 

"Geology  treats  the  earth,  too,  as  well  as 
trilobites.  The  earth  is  a  round  spear  in  the 


TOM  AND  FEITZ  CONVERSE        53 

shape  of  a  ball  and  was  made  to  imitate  a  globe. 
This  earth  is  all  holler  inside  and  filled  up  with 
molten  liquor.  Some  thinks  there  is  a  solid 
nucleus  in  the  centre  of  the  middle,  like  a  baked 
dumpling  with  an  apple  in  it.  But  I  doubt  that. 
There  is  not  enough  theory  to  prove  it.  The 
crust  of  the  earth  is  thick  compared  to  pie-crust, 
but  thin  compared  to  Barclay  Snooks'  skull. 
Fritz,  did  you  know  Barclay  Snooks  ran  away  ?  " 

"He  vas  here  shust  now,  mit  hees  shmall 
brudder." 

"  Was  he  ?    What  did  he  want  ?  " 

"  He  vas  mit  a  gun." 

"  I'll  bet  he  was  prowling  around  here  to  get  a 
shot  at  our  dog.  Or  to  steal  something.  What 
sort  of  a  tree  is  that  by  the  spring,  Fritz  ?  " 

"  Dot  ?  dot  vas  a  linn.  By  golly,  I  tell  you  a 
shtory  by  dot.  Yas  a  man,  in  my  country,  vot 
has  a  daughter,  und  a  yung  man  coom  to  see 
her,  by  golly,  nearly  efry  night,  und  he  vant  to 
marry  her.  But  dot  man  say,  'Vot  for  you 
marry  ?  You  got  notings, — you  pooty  nigh 
starf.'  Veil,  dees  girl  say,  'Fater,  Gott  make 
der  vorld  from  notings.'  So,  von  night,  dot  old 
man  treamt  he  been  diggin'  und  diggin'  under  a 
linn-tree,  und  found  a  pox  monee.  So  next  day, 
he  get  a  shpade,  und  pick,  oder  so,  und  he  go 
vare  vas  two  linn-trees,  a  pig  von  und  a  leetle 
von;  und  he  began  to  dig  right  avay  by  dot 
leetle  tree.  He  vas  villins  to  dig  it  up  by  roots. 


54  TOM  TAD 

Now,  vat  you  tink  ?  Dot  yung  man  vas  hid  in 
dot  leetle  tree, — Christopher  vas  his  name,  und 
dot  girl's  name  vas  Margaret, — und  he  tink,  '  By 
golly,  vat  I  do?'  Und  Margaret  she  say, 
' Fater,  vat  you  done  if  Christopher  coom ? '  'I 
kill  him  right  avay ! '  Den  Margaret  she  feel 
her  heart  shumps,  '  Yy  you  diggin'  here,  f ater  ? ' 
'  Yell,  I  hat  a  dream  dot  I  find  von  pox  monee 
unter  von  linn-tree.'  'Sure,  fater,  dot  monee 
been  hid  a  gut  vile ;  hoondert  years,  maybe,  und 
dees  leetle  tree  ist  nicht  so  alt.  Yy  you  not  dig 
unter  der  pig  linden  ? '  '  Ya,  wohl ! '  said  der 
man,  und  he  begins  right  avay  diggin'  und  dig- 
gin',  und,  vat  you  tink  ?  dere  vas  von  pig,  pig 
pox,  full  mit  gold,  und  silber,  unt  timons !  So 
he  shump  up,  like  crazy  mans — '  Margaret,  Mar- 
garet, dot  tream  coom  true  ;  here  iss  der  monee, 
Margaret ! '  '  Yot  you  do  now,  fater,  if  Christo- 
pher coom  back  ? '  '  Now,  I  don't  care,  Marga- 
ret; you  shust  marry  Christopher  venever  he 
cooms  back.'  Den  Margaret  look  up  dot  leetle 
tree,  und  she  say,  'Hi,  by  golly,  Christopher, 
coom  down!  Didn't  I  tell  you,  fater,  Gott 
make  der  vorld  out  of  notings  ? ' ' 

There  is  no  saying  how  long  the  profitable  in- 
terchange of  science  and  romance  might  have 
gone  on  between  Tom  and  Fritz,  had  not  their 
conference  been  interrupted  by  Mr.  Tadmore, 
senior.  That  gentleman,  observing  that  the 
sound  of  hammer  and  saw  had  stopped,  made  it 


TOM  AND  FKITZ  CONVERSE         55 

convenient  to  stroll  in  the  direction  of  the 
Bower.  The  noise  of  hammer  and  sa,w  recom- 
menced with  energy.  The  young  scientist  saun- 
tered from  the  Bower  to  meet  his  father,  upon 
whom  he  had  designs. 


XI 

TOM  AND  THE  SHOW 

"  PA,  I  wish  you  would  give  me  a  job  of  work 
to  do.  I  would  like  to  earn  a  quarter." 

"  You  may  pick  up  the  stones  in  the  new  pas- 
ture, and  throw  them  into  the  ravine." 

"  Yes,"  slowly  and  with  a  sigh,  "  I  did  pick  up 
a  good  many.  Aunty  thinks  it  brought  on  a 
headache." 

"  You  might  dig  up  those  dock- weeds." 

"  Don't  you  think,  pa,  I  might  gather  some 
cherries  and  sell  them,  and  make  money  that 
way?" 

"  "What  will  you  pay  me  for  the  cherries,  my 
son?" 

Tom  gave  up  the  idea  of  speculating  in  cher- 
ries. 

"  What  do  you  want  money  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  dun'  know.  Nothing  in  particular. 
Uncle  Felix  said  yesterday  you  was  a  very  gen- 
erous man." 

"  How  did  he  come  to  say  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  was  a  talking  about  you,  and  how 
kind  you  was,  and  all  that,  and  how  you  wasn't 
a  bit  stingy,  and  I  said  of  course  you  was " 

56 


TOM  AND  THE  SHOW  57 

"  Was  stingy  ?  " 

"  No  I  Kind  and  good  to  boys,  and  all  that. — 
Pa,  what  y'  goin'  to  do  next  Friday  ? " 

"  Friday  ?  I  have  no  plans  for  Friday.  Why 
do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  dun'  know.  I  just  wondered.  I  'spect 
Friday  will  be  a  clear  day.  You  haven't  any 
rheumatism  in  your  bones,  have  you,  pa  ?  " 

"  No,  Tom,  I  am  feeling  unusually  well  this 
summer." 

"  I'm  so  glad  of  that,  pa ! 

Mr.  Tadmore  was  pleased  at  this  manifestation 
of  his  son's  affectionate  interest  in  his  health.  It 
was  scarcely  to  be  expected  in  one  so  young. 
The  sympathetic  child  put  his  hand  confidingly 
into  that  of  his  parent.  "  Pa,  Cousin  Frank's 
father  always  takes  him  most  generally  to  the 
circus."  This  information  was  accompanied  by 
an  eager  interrogative  glance  at  pa's  face.  Pa's 
face  took  on  an  expression  of  seasoned  wood  of 
some  hard  variety.  There  was  embarrassed 
silence. 

"  Pa,  Kobinson's  Show " 

"A  foolish  way  to  spend  money,"  said  the 
wooden  face.  "  All  nonsense." 

"  There's  three  elephants." 

"  Folly  !    Nonsense  !     No  place  for  a  boy." 

"  And  a  giraffe,  and  monkeys." 

"  Say  no  more  about  it." 

Thus  speaking  the  wooden  face  bent  its  frown- 


58  TOM  TAD 

ing  brows,  looking  sternly  at  the  doleful  counte- 
nance of  the  boy.  The  countenance  of  the  boy 
was  wrinkled  into  a  most  dismal  shape.  The 
wooden  face  changed  from  hard  oak  to  soft 
maple.  "  Don't  whimper  ! " 

"  All  the  boys  are  going." 

"  They  are,  are  they  ?  " 

"  There's  a  baby  elephant,  too." 

"  You  are  a  baby  yourself,  Tom." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  the  'potamus." 

"  Well,  we'll  see  about  it." 

Victory  !  Tom  knew  well  enough  that  when 
his  father  said,  "  We'll  see  about  it,"  the  battle 
was  as  good  as  won. 

Friday  came,  and  with  it  the  circus  and  men- 
agerie. The  great  tent  and  the  smaller  ones 
containing  the  side-shows  were  erected  not  far 
from  the  river,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  goodly  vil- 
lage of  Forest  Glen. 

Tom,  who  was  accustomed  to  express  himself 
with  pen  and  ink,  a  very  unusual  practice  for  a 
boy  of  his  age,  and  a  practice  of  which  he  was 
proud  and  vain,  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  Cousin 
Frank,  of  St.  Louis,  giving  an  account  of  the 
show,  and  his  impressions  of  it.  Tom's  letters, 
like  his  conversation,  contained  a  queer  mixture 
of  conscious  humor,  precocious  insight  and  nai've 
simplicity.  The  lad  was  at  once  wise  and  inno- 
cent ;  droll  and  serious ;  spontaneous  and  arti- 
ficial. His  natural  shrewdness  and  comic  fancy 


TOM  AND  THE  SHOW  59 

were  curiously  modified  by  a  severely  moral 
home-training  and  by  a  hodge-podge  education  in 
school.  His  letter  to  Cousin  Frank  ran  as 
follows : 

"  It  seems  an  awful  long  time  since  you  have 
went.  I  promised  to  wright  and  here  goes,  for 
I  miss  you  at  home  do  I  miss  you  as  the  song 
says. 

"  Frank  I  will  take  great  panes  in  the  compos- 
ure of  this  so  as  to  improve  both  our  minds. 

"  And  now  I  must  first  tell  you  we  went  to  the 
Grand  Circuss  me  and  pa  and  me  but  I  wouldn't 
take  sister  Han  to  see  such  things.  I  do  not  care 
myself  for  the  frivolous  equistrian  horse  hippo- 
drome but  pa  was  ankshus  to  go  as  I  could  see 
by  his  unexpressed  looks  so  I  took  him  along  he 
only  paying  the  bills.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  me 
we  would  have  been  late  but  we  kept  out  of  the 
jamb  by  going  at  ten,  and  the  doors  open  at  one 
so  no  trouble  to  pa.  Pa  was  by  no  means  the 
only  ball  headed  man  there.  I  noticed  that  lots 
of  the  boys  of  our  school  had  one  or  more  of 
their  fathers  and  mothers  with  them  and  there 
was  slithers  of  girls  too  and  some  rite  Nice. 

"  I  can't  say  that  the  circuss  is  hardly  the  right 
kind  of  place  for  old  folks.  However  they  have 
their  weaknesses,  Frank,  as  well  as  you  or  me. 
For  my  part  I  go  to  such  places  merely  as  a 
looker  on. 


60  TOM  TAD 

"  But  the  menagery  part  has  its  uses  to  the 
mind,  for  it  shows  the  habits  of  wild  animals  in 
their  natural  homes,  there  is  elephants  for  in- 
stance and  aquariums  and  the  Bengal  gnu  and 
Napoleons  State  coach  and  the  calliope  and  other 
zoological  wonders  and  monkeys  too  remind  us 
of  our  origin  of  specie  and  warns  us  not  to  be 
stuck  up.  Side-shows  prove  how  much  Bigger 
and  stronger  the  picture  of  things  is  than  things 
is  themselves.  I  have  took  notice  that  a  Wild 
Man  of  Borneo  on  a  show  bill  is  a  heap  wilder 
and  more  f  rosius  than  a  real  Wild  Man  of  borneo 
inside  the  tent. 

"  Then  I  might  also  expectorate  on  those  who 
sell  lemonade  at  the  circuss.  Never  you  deal 
with  them  Frank  I  warn  you  as  a  true  friend. 
Some  folks  have  a  wasteful  and  vicious  vice  of 
feeding  elephants  unwholesome  peanuts  and 
gingercakes.  it  is  not  only  wasteful  but  it  dis- 
organizes the  stummick  of  the  poor  brute  whose 
natural  food  is  the  jumbles  of  Africa. 

"  There  was  a  lady  in  the  big  tent  dressed  up 
tight  that  they  called  the  Flying  Sylph  because 
they  slung  her  by  a  catapult  through  the  air  about 
a  hundred  feet  and  she  lit  on  a  big  hammick. 
The  Flying  Sylph  laid  down  on  the  spring  and 
they  touched  her  off  and  away  sure  enough  she 
flew  !  I  tell  you  Frank  pa  was  skeert. 

"  Seems  to  me  clowns  has  more  sense  than  they 
make  use  of  and  ringmaster's  has  less.  Ide  like 


TOM  AND  THE  SHOW  61 

to  be  a  clown  myself  if  it  wasn't  for  the  blame 
ringmasters  whip. 

"The  funniest  thing  was  the  clown  bringing 
in  the  family  donkey.  He  was  a  little  bit  of  a 
donkey  no  bigger  than  you  but  mercy  how  he 
did  kick  up. 

"  There  was  three  rings  in  the  circuss  all  going 
round  at  once  which  made  my  head  ake.  Who 
can  look  at  a  dancing  pony  and  listen  to  the 
jokes  of  two  other  clowns  in  the  two  other  rings 
while  the  man  with  lemonade  and  tickets  keeps 
bawling  at  you  all  the  time  ? 

"Dear  Frank  I  have  aten  my  dinner  and 
rested  up  and  now  I  will  go  a  hed  and  phinnish 
upp  my  letter. 

"  I  was  going  to  say  they  brought  in  the  trick 
donkey  and  the  ringmaster  said  '  he  would  give 
any  gentleman  a  new  coat  who  would  ride  him 
around  the  ring '  and  a  ragged  fellow  he  came 
and  pretended  to  be  a  greenhorn  and  the  little 
tads  they  thought  sure  enough  he  was  a  green 
country  horn  but  he  got  up  onto  him  and  sot  the 
other  way  and  grabbed  him  by  the  tail  and  rode 
around  backward  the  donkey  a  kicking  up  so 
that  it  would  make  a  vinegar  barl  laugh. 

"I  forgot  to  tell  about  the  Best  of  all  the 
wonder  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  and  only  just  a 
girl  all  spangled  up  dressed  in  muskeeter-bar  stuff 
and  ribbons  and  she  rode  a  bare  back  mare  dan- 
cing and  kissing  her  hand  and  jumping  over  poles 


62  TOM  TAD 

and  flags  and  through  a  hoop  of  tisshew  paper,  I 
tell  you  she  was  fine,  seems  to  me  like  a  fairy  or 
a  sort  of  angel  but  Id  hate  Han  to  be  hollered 
at  by  the  boys  that  way  and  joked  by  the  clown. 

"  There  was  two  clowns  and  when  that  girl  I 
just  told  of  performed  on  the  tite  rope  the  ring- 
master told  one  of  the  clowns  to  chalk  the  rope 
so  that  she  wouldnt  slip  down  after  he  had 
chalked  it  above  he  began  to  chalk  it  below  and 
when  the  ringmaster  said  why  he  did  that  the 
clown  said  so  the  young  lady  won't  slip  up. 

"  Squinty  Runkle  was  there  and  so  was  Sam 
Noggle.  I  saw  the  Snooks  boys  too  that  I  told 
you  about  being  so  mean.  Barclay  was  with 
them  McStaver  girls  a  treating  them  to  Red 
lemonade.  Old  barclay  saw  me  and  Charley 
Blogson  standing  by  the  Happy  Fambly  cage  and 
he  said  git  out  of  my  way  kid  and  I  called  him  a 
potamus  right  before  his  girls. 

"  Good  by  frank  wright  soon. 
"  Tour  cousin, 

"  THOMAS  TADMORE." 


XII 

FIGHTING  THE  FRENCH  ARMY 

SKIRTING  a  neglected  woodland  on  the  Tad- 
more  estate,  was  a  field  overgrown  with  rank 
weeds  and  blackberry  bushes.  Fritz  had  under- 
taken the  task  of  clearing  away  these  wild 
growths,  with  the  view  of  transforming  the 
waste  ground  into  meadow.  He  sharpened  his 
scythe  with  the  whetstone  and,  making  believe 
to  be  the  Prussian  Army,  valiantly  proceeded  to 
mow  down  whole  regiments  of  French  grena- 
diers, for  such,  he  told  Tom,  were  the  fierce 
briars.  While  Tom  stood  watching  with  admi- 
ration the  advance  of  the  Prussian  Army,  Charley 
Blogson  hailed  him  from  the  top  rail  of  a  fence 
a  few  rods  away.  Retiring  from  the  battle-field, 
the  loquacious  young  Tadmore  joined  his  admir- 
ing comrade,  and  the  two  lads,  sitting  side  by 
side  on  the  fence,  entered  into  familiar  dialogue, 
Tom,  as  usual,  taking  the  lead. 

"  I  was  just  telling  Fritz  how  much  better  off 
he  is  in  this  country  than  he  was  in  the  old 
world,  where  he  had  to  mind  kings  and  tyrants,  or 
get  his  head  cut  off.  I  told  him  that  he  ought  to 
be  glad  of  a  chance  to  fight  for  the  red,  white  and 

63 


64  TOM  TAD 

blue.  Uncle  Felix  says  folks  ain't  as  partyotic  as 
they  ought,  and  don't  raise  liberty  poles  enough, 
nor  holler  enough  for  "Washington  and  Columbus. 
He  says  we  forget  our  forefathers.  I  reckon  you 
know  who  our  four  fathers  was  ?  "Washington, 
and  Columbus,  and  "William  Tell,  and  Abe  Lin- 
coln." 

"I  wasn't  sure  about  the  last  one,"  said 
Charley,  taking  out  his  pocket-knife  and  pulling 
a  splinter  from  a  rail,  to  whittle. 

""Wasn't  sure  about  Abe  Lincoln?  He  was 
the  biggest  of  the  four.  The  boys  around  here 
don't  know  nothing  scarcely  about  our  minute- 
men,  and  how  they  started  the  Fourth  of  July. 
I  asked  Sam  who  wrote  the  Declamation  of  Inde- 
pendence, and  he  said  Pontiac.  "When  I  told 
him  it  was  Washington  he  said  he  knowed  it 
was  now  that  I  reminded  him,  but  he  was  just 
letting  on  because  he  hated  to  show  his  own 
ign'rance.  Fact  is  he  didn't  know  any  more 
about  it  than  you  do." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Charley,  deferentially,  "  that 
the  book  said  Thomas  Jefferson  wrote  that." 

"Wrote  which?" 

"  The — what  you  jest  said  ; — the  Fourth  of 
July  thing." 

"  The  Declamation  of  Independence  !  Maybe 
you  are  right,  Charley.  But  I  think  it  was 
Washington.  Or  was  it  Patrick  Henry  ?  I  get 
these  things  mixed  up  myself,  sometimes." 


FIGHTING  THE  FRENCH  ARMY     65 

"  So  do  I,  I  hate  history,  Tom." 

"  "Well,  I  like  it.  I  think  history  is  the  nicest 
study  in  school,  and  the  nicest  study  there  is,  ex- 
cept animals." 

"  I  recollect,"  said  Charley,  "  how  they  fired 
at  the  Redcoats  from  behind  stumps  and  stone 
walls." 

"  Yes,  they  did ;  you've  got  that  right.  That's 
the  way  the  Fourth  of  July  started.  "We  ought 
to  study  these  things,  Charley,  so  as  to  be 
partyotic.  I  believe  I'll  go  into  politics  when  I 
get  to  be  a  man,  if  I  live  and  keep  my  health. 
Seems  to  me  I've  been  saved  up  for  something 
great.  As  like  as  not,  maybe  I'll  be  elected  to 
the  presidential  throne,  like  Abe  Lincoln,  and 
I'll  send  you  on  a  foreign  missionary  or  else 
minister  plenty  penitentiary." 

"  I'd  like  that,"  rejoined  Charley. 

"  Charley,  let's  celebrate  the  Fourth  of  July 
this  year,  and  have  speeches  and  fire- works." 

"  I'm  willing." 

"  "We  will  have  a  sort  of  mass-meeting  over  in 
your  orchard,  Charley,  there  back  of  the 
barn." 

"Who'll  come  to  it?" 

"Oh,  all  the  boys  and  girls.  You  fix  up  a 
nostrum  for  me  to  make  a  speech.  "We'll  get 
some  wooden  guns,  and  swords,  and  so  on.  I'll 
fetch  a  flag.  But  you  mustn't  tell  the  Snooks 
boys,  or  any  of  their  crowd.  They  would  spoil 


66  TOM  TAD 

the  celebration,  and  like  as  not  old  Barclay 
would  bring  his  gun  and  shoot  you  again." 

Charley  went  on  whittling.  He  did  not  like 
the  topic  Tom  had  introduced. 

"  Charley,  would  you  stand  by  me  if  I'd  pitch 
into  Seneca  Snooks  and  give  him  a  black  eye  ?  " 

"Seneca  isn't  the  one,"  replied  Charley. 
"  Seneca  only  does  what  his  brother  tells  him  to. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  Seneca,  are  you  ?  " 

"No;  that's  the  reason  why  I  thought  I'd 
better  lick  him.  But  mother  don't  want  me  to 
fight.  She  says  it  takes  more  moral  courage  not 
to.  Sister  Han  says  no  gentleman  will  stoop  to 
fight  a  rowdy,  and  she  would  be  ashamed  to 
have  her  brother  fight.  Aunt  Tildy  is  the  worst 
of  all ;  she  says  she'd  rather  see  me  in  my  little 
coffin  than  she  would  fight.  And  pa  says,  if  I 
get  into  a  fight  at  school,  he  might  forget  him- 
self and  try  hickory  oil  on  his  dear  son.  Not 
one  of  our  family  ever  seems  to  have  been  a  boy, 
— not  even  mother." 

"  There  goes  Barclay  Snooks,  now,"  said  Char- 
ley, pointing  to  the  woods.  "That's  him,  and 
Seneca,  and  Cuff  Chuck,  and  Squinty  Runkle." 

"Is  that  Cuff  Chuck?"  questioned  Tom, 
shading  his  eyes  from  the  sun.  "He  is  the 
laziest  nigger  in  the  world.  I  wonder  why 
Squinty  goes  with  them  boys  ?  What  are  they 
trying  to  do  with  Squinty  ?  " 

From  where  the  lads  sat  on  the  fence,  they 


FIGHTING  THE  FRENCH  ARMY     67 

saw  Barclay  seize  Squinty  Runkle  and  throw 
him  to  the  ground.  Then  Seneca  and  the 
colored  boy  were  seen  to  stoop  over  the  pros- 
trate Squinty  who  screamed  lustily  for  help. 
Squinty's  cries  reached  the  ears  of  Fritz  Haber- 
korn  who  immediately  dropped  his  scythe  and 
rushed  to  the  rescue. 

"  Donner  und  Blitzen !  "  shouted  he,  seizing  a 
huge  club.  "  I  make  your  hets  right  avay  off." 
But  the  dastardly  Barclay  and  his  attendants 
took  their  own  heads  and  bodies  off  to  the  cover 
of  the  woods,  leaving  the  victim  of  their  per- 
secution blubbering. 

"  Vat  der  matter  iss  ?  " 

Squinty  got  up,  hawking  and  spitting.  Tom 
and  Charley,  who  came  running  to  the  scene  as 
soon  as  the  Snooks  forces  fled,  took  Squinty  in 
charge,  and  Fritz  went  slowly  back  to  resume 
offensive  operation  against  the  French  army  of 
occupation. 

"  What  did  they  do  to  you,  Squinty  ?  " 

Squinty  kept  on  spitting,  his  face  the  picture 
of  disgust.  Minutes  elapsed  before  he  could  be 
induced  to  speak.  "  Gosh,"  he  finally  articulated 
putting  an  immense  amount  of  expression  into 
the  monosyllable.  Tom,  by  dint  of  hard  ques- 
tioning, learned  that  Snooks  had  forced  into 
Squinty's  mouth  a  crow's  egg,  far  too  old  to  be 
palatable. 

Unpleasant  as  the  experience  was  to  Squinty, 


68  TOM  TAD 

neither  Tom  nor  Charley  refrained  from  laugh- 
ing. They  advised  the  sufferer  to  keep  out  of 
bad  company,  and  were  offering  to  see  him  safe 
home,  when  they  heard  startling  vociferations 
from  the  hired  man.  They  soon  caught  sight  of 
him,  in  the  briar  field,  acting  in  a  most  extra- 
ordinary manner.  Fritz  was  plunging  madly 
about,  as  if  dodging  unseen  missiles,  and  he  kept 
boxing  his  own  ears  as  in  violent  rage.  The  tor- 
rent of  loud  speech  that  issued  from  his  mouth 
was  guttural  German  of  the  strongest  kind,  and 
abounded  in  exclamations  that  Tom  couldn't  help 
fancying  were  profane.  The  boys  understood 
the  situation  immediately.  They  both  cried  out 
in  a  breath, 

"Bumble-bees!" 

The  Prussian  army  in  its  devastating  march 
and  slaughter  of  the  French  grenadiers,  had 
been  surprised  by  a  foe  in  ambush.  The  inva- 
ding scythe  had  struck  into  the  very  citadel  of 
the  armed  honey-stealers  and  the  furious  horde 
issued  forth,  every  sting  unsheathed.  They  took 
Fritz  by  storm;  they  attacked  him  front  and 
rear;  they  assailed  his  ears,  his  eyes,  his  nose; 
lodged  in  his  shaggy  hair,  and  penetrated 
through  his  valiant  beard  to  pay  their  warm 
respects  to  his  chin.  The  Prussian  army,  rush- 
ing to  the  woods,  tore  up  a  small  pawpaw-tree 
by  the  roots,  and  madly  slashed  the  air,  like  an- 
other Don  Quixote  fighting  invisible  giants. 


FIGHTING  THE  FRENCH  ARMY     69 

"What,  meanwhile,  was  the  conduct  of  Thomas 
Tadmore  and  Charles  Blogson  ?  Did  they  fly 
to  the  defense  of  the  unfortunate  man,  as  brave 
lads  should  have  done  ?  Ah,  no.  The  truth 
must  be  told.  Those  hardened  wretches  rolled 
upon  the  grass  convulsed  with  delight. 

"I  never  laughed  so  much  in  my  life," 
chuckled  Tom,  when  he  related  the  incident  that 
afternoon  to  Uncle  Felix. 

"  Neither  did  I,"  said  Charley ;  and  the  boys 
indulged  in  a  second  fit  of  laughter  in  mere  re- 
membrance of  the  fun. 

"Fritz  always  tells  me,"  said  Tom,  "not  to 
pay  any  attention  to  the  bumble-bees  when  they 
come  around  my  head,  and  they  won't  hurt.  He 
says  if  you  act  as  if  you  don't  know  they  are 
there,  they  won't  never  sting." 

As  Tom  was  saying  these  words,  Fritz  unex- 
pectedly appeared,  his  scythe  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Did  you  whip  the  French,  Fritz  ?  "asked  Tom. 

"  By  golly !  If  I  catch  you  poys  laughing,  I 
schlag  you  dot  shingle  mit !  Now  you  mint  out 
vat  I  say." 

Tom  put  on  a  serious  face. 

"Fritz,  don't  pay  no  attention  to  them  and 
they  won't  sting.  You  oughtn't  to  talk  like  a 
crazy  man  about  the  dam  and  places  in  the 
Bible,  and  such  slang,  or  Charley  and  me'll  have 
to  run  away  to  keep  from  learning  the  bad  words 
you  spoke  on  the  spur  of  the  minute." 


70  TOM  TAD 

The  old  soldier,  scowling,  strode  away  to- 
wards the  barn,  and  Tom  gave  Charley  the 
benefit  of  a  moralist's  reflections : 

"There  are  three  things  I'd  like  to  see  any- 
body do.  The  first  is,  to  not  get  excited  when 
you  fall  into  the  river,  but  lay  calm  on  your 
back  and  float.  Another  hard  thing  is  to  look  a 
cross  dog  straight  in  the  eye  when  he  rushes  up 
to  bite  you.  I  tried  that  one  time,  to  see  if  the 
dog  had  the  nerve  or  if  he  would  quail.  I  looked 
him  tolerable  straight  in  the  eye,  but  he  quailed 
around  my  left  wing  and  took  me  by  the  hind 
part  of  the  trouse's  like  a  coward.  But  the 
hardest  of  all  is  to  not  let  on  when  a  bumble-bee 
comes  bumbling  like  fury  around  your  head.  I 
like  to  fight  bumble-bees  but  I  hate  'em  to  fight 
me.  Still,  I  pity  them.  They  are  like  the  wild 
Indian  red  man,  because  they  came  to  this 
country  first  and  we  hadn't  ought  to  treat  them 
mean.  Suppose,  Charley,  you  was  a  lone  red 
man,  paddling  your  own  canoe  which  the  Great 
Spirit  gave  you,  and  the  pale  face  comes  sneakin' 
along  and  says  he  has  the  right  to  all  the  hunt- 
ing ground  for  his  sovereign  ?  If  I  was  a  lone 
red  man,  I'd  kick,  too,  before  I'd  give  up  my 
wigwam.  Wouldn't  you  ?  "Well,  it's  just  the 
same  with  the  bumble-bees.  It's  their  nest,  ain't 
it  ?  If  I  was  a  King  Bee,  I'd  do  just  the  same 
as  Pontiac  and  Black  Hawk  did." 


XIII 

TOM  LOSES  HIS  MORAL  COURAGE 

TOM  and  Charley  immediately  set  about  ma- 
king preparations  for  the  Fourth  of  July  celebra- 
tion ;  or,  to  speak  accurately,  Tom  began  to  give 
orders  which  Charley  was  to  execute.  A  grassy 
space  in  Blogson's  orchard  was  chosen  for  the 
proposed  "  mass  meeting,"  and  a  rude  platform 
was  erected  to  furnish  a  stand  for  public  speech- 
making.  Boards  for  the  construction  of  the 
rostrum  were  collected  from  far  and  near,  Tom 
contributing  not  a  few  from  sidewalks  and  fences 
on  his  father's  farm.  This  lumber,  with  a  quan- 
tity of  stone  and  brick  for  foundation,  was 
transported  to  the  place  where  it  was  to  be  used 
by  Charley,  at  the  expense  of  much  energy  and 
sweat.  Tom's  impatience  demanded,  and  easily 
secured,  the  services  of  Squinty  Runkle  as  general 
assistant,  which  lightened  the  labors  of  Charley 
wonderfully.  Tom  assumed  the  responsible 
office  of  architect  and  designer;  Charley  took 
upon  himself  the  duty  of  boss ;  and  Squinty  had 
nothing  to  do  except  to  saw,  hammer,  lift,  and, 
in  short,  make  the  platform.  The  architect  and 
the  boss-builder  looked  on,  with  their  hands  in 

71 


72  TOM  TAD 

their  pockets,  while  Squinty,  with  the  pride  of  a 
true  Knight  of  Labor,  performed  the  part  which  a 
just  division  of  labor  allotted  to  him.  When  the 
rough  work  was  finished,  and  while  the  Knight 
of  Labor  was  tying  a  rag  around  his  left  thumb 
which  he  had  bruised,  his  superiors  decorated  the 
stand  with  green  branches  and  a  scanty  display 
of  small  and  much  faded  flags. 

To  make  up  for  the  deficiency  in  patriotic 
emblems,  Tom  manufactured  a  flaunting  banner 
from  a  remnant  of  one  of  his  sister's  dresses, 
a  very  gay  pattern  in  stripes  of  red  and 
white,  to  which  a  blue  field  with  stars  of  silver 
paper  was  stitched,  producing  altogether  a  most 
brilliant  and  soul  stirring  effect.  Unfurled  at 
the  top  of  a  tall  bean-pole  nailed  to  the  front  of 
the  speaker's  stand,  this  home-made  flag  streamed 
and  fluttered  in  the  free  air  of  Blogson's  orchard, 
to  the  unbounded  admiration  of  Squinty  Runkle 
and  his  employers. 

"  See  her  wave ! "  exclaimed  Charley.  "  Isn't 
she  a  beauty,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Splendid ! "  was  the  enthusiastic  reply.  "  I 
didn't  think  I  could  make  such  a  fine  flag,  did 
you  ?  Squinty,  what  do  you  think  I  made  that 
flag  of  ?  It  isn't  common  flag  stuff  at  all :  it's 
Sister  Han's  striped  frock  ! " 

"  Gosh  ! "  said  Squinty. 

"  Now,  Charley,  we  must  have  a  lot  of  guns 
and  swords.  You  can  make  the  guns  of  broom- 


LOSES  HIS  MORAL  COURAGE       73 

handles  and  hoe-handles,  and  the  swords  out  of 
pine.  I'll  make  one  of  tin  for  myself  and  put  red 
ink  on  the  blade  for  blood.  Then  we  can  have 
plumes  of  roosters'  tails  and  such  like,  and  you'll 
be  the  brass  band,  Charley,  and  march  behind 
me  with  a  drum " 

"  I  haven't  got  a  drum." 

"Well,  you  can  use  a  wash-boiler,  or  some- 
thing, and  you  must  play  on  your  mouth  to 
imitate  fifes  and  trumpets." 

"I  can  do  that"  said  Charley,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  puff  out  his  cheeks,  and  to  execute,  in 
a  most  novel  and  energetic  manner,  the  tune  of 
Yankee  Doodle. 

"  That's  it !  That's  as  good  as  a  circus  band. 
You  must  learn  to  play  '  Hail  Columbia,'  and 
4  Star  Spangled  Banner.'  I  had  a  notion  to  open 
the  mass  meeting  with  singing,  but  I  guess  I'll 
give  that  up,  now.  I  wrote  the  first  verse  of  a 
hymn  which  begins  this  way.  Let's  see,  how 
did  I  begin  ?  — 

"  God  bless  our  native  land  all  hail  — 
No  tyrants  here  shall  reign " 

"  Do  you  think  it's  better  to  hail  than  rain  ?  " 
asked  Charley,  interrupting  the  recitation. 

"  It  don't  mean  real  hail  and  rain.  It's  only 
po'try.  Do  you  suppose,  Charley  Blogson,  that 
when  they  sing  '  Hail  Columbia,'  they  mean 
anything  like  a  storm  ? — But  I  thought  of  what 


74  TOM  TAD 

you  mentioned  when  I  was  making  it  up.  First 
I  made  it  up  that  way,  hail  and  rain,  and  then  I 
was  afraid  somebody  might  find  fault  and  I 
changed  it.  I've  got  it  written  out,  here  in  my 
pocket.  I'll  read  it  as  I  wrote  it  the  second 
time. 

"  God  bless  oar  native  land  all  hail  I 

Let  tyrants  bleed  hurrah ! ! 
Sail  on  thou  Ship  of  Freedom  Sail ! ! ! 
O  Eagle  flap  and  claw  ! ! ! ! 

"  You  understand,  of  course,  why  I  bring  in  the 
ship  and  the  eagle?  But  I  don't  believe  I'll 
have  this  hymn  sung.  After  the  band  plays,  I'll 
read  the  Declamation  of  Independence,  and  then 
I'll  make  a  big  speech  about  no  taxation  and  the 
red,  white  and  blue.  You  mustn't  forget  to 
invite  all  the  boys  and  girls,  and  maybe  you'd 
better  get  your  mother  to  bake  a  pound  cake, 
and  we'll  have  a  sort  of  a  picnic." 

At  the  appointed  hour,  on  the  glorious  Fourth, 
a  score  of  children  gathered  around  the  grand 
stand  in  Blogson's  orchard.  Tom  appeared  in 
the  midst,  fantastically  dressed  in  what  was  in- 
tended to  represent  a  military  costume.  Stripes 
of  red  tape  were  sewed  to  the  legs  of  his  panta- 
loons ;  his  coat  was  turned  inside  out ;  enormous 
epaulettes  decorated  his  shoulders ;  a  paper  hat 
stuck  full  of  peacock  feathers  adorned  his  head, 
and  in  his  hand  flashed  a  tin  sword  with  a  wooden 


LOSES  HIS  MOEAL  COURAGE       75 

hilt.  His  faithful  aid- de-camp,  Blogson,  distrib- 
uted to  the  boys  and  girls  who  made  up  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  "mass-meeting,"  such  weapons, 
plumes,  and  other  warlike  accoutrements,  as  he 
had  been  able  to  provide.  The  forces  were 
ranged  in  line,  the  biggest  soldier  at  one  end  and 
the  smallest  at  the  other,  the  rest  being  arranged 
between  in  regular  gradation  according  to  tall- 
ness,  and  without  regard  to  age,  sex  or  military 
experience.  An  awe-compelling  feature  of  the 
pageant  was  a  make-believe  cannon  ingeniously 
constructed  by  mounting  a  section  of  worn-out 
stove-pipe  on  a  pair  of  old  hand-cart  wheels,  the 
grotesque  field-piece  being  drawn  by  four  skit- 
tish boys  representing  restive  horses.  Captain 
Tadmore  reviewed  the  column,  and  ordered  Lieu- 
tenant Blogson  to  drill  the  company.  This  the 
subordinate  attempted  to  do,  but  without  much 
success.  Finally  the  Captain  assumed  command. 
Placing  himself  at  the  head  of  the  file,  with 
Blogson  in  the  capacity  of  Brass  Band  next  be- 
hind him,  he  gave  the  command  "  March,"  and 
strode  off  gallantly  waving  his  sword.  The  pro- 
cession, thus  guided,  moved  onward,  under  the 
apple-trees,  and  around  the  platform,  animated 
by  the  inspiring  notes  of  Blogson's  musical  mouth, 
and  the  accompanying  clatter  of  drumstick  on 
an  old  tin  basin.  The  grand  parade  being  ended, 
the  militia  became  civilians  and  sat  down  on  ttm 
grass  to  listen  to  the  oration  of  the  day.  So  far 


76  TOM  TAD 

everything  had  gone  on  satisfactorily  and  accord- 
ing to  the  program.  But  unforeseen  mischief 
was  brewing.  The  unreliable  Squinty,  though  he 
had  given  a  pledge  of  secrecy  to  Tom  and  Charley, 
had  incautiously  betrayed  to  Seneca  Snooks 
the  plans  of  celebration.  So  good  an  opportunity 
to  tease  and  torment  Tom  and  his  friends  was 
not  to  be  lost  by  Barclay.  That  notorious  leader, 
carrying  on  his  shoulder  the  renowned  gun 
which  had  so  often  saved  his  life,  sallied  forth  on 
Independence  Day,  accompanied  by  several  of 
his  "gang,"  including  his  brother  Seneca,  Alic 
Thug  and  Cuff  Chuck.  All  were  supplied  with 
ammunition  in  the  form  of  mud-balls  and  stolen 
eggs.  They  advanced  cautiously  and  hid  behind 
a  barn  which  stood  a  short  distance  from  the 
place  of  celebration. 

Meanwhile,  Captain  Tadmore,  having  ascended 
the  platform,  took  a  seat  with  grave  dignity,  and 
the  band  struck  up  the  air  "  Three  Cheers  for  the 
Ked,  "White  and  Blue,"  a  performance  which 
gave  keen  delight  not  only  to  the  mass-meeting, 
but  also  to  the  Goth-and- Vandal  audience  behind 
the  barn.  The  band,  whose  face  was  very  red 
from  violent  muscular  exertion,  sat  down,  and 
the  orator  of  the  day  arose. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen :  We  will  begin  these 
divine  services  by  my  reading  the  Declamation 
of  Independence.  It  is  printed  in  full  in  the 
back  part  of  this  history  of  the  United 


LOSES  HIS  MORAL  COURAGE       7Y 

States. — '"When,  in  the  course  of  human 
events ' " 

A  wild  yell  broke  upon  the  ears  of  the  speaker, 
and  cut  his  sentence  short.  The  next  minute, 
Barclay  and  his  gang  left  their  place  of  concealment 
and  swaggered  towards  the  platform.  Captain 
Tadmore's  hand  shook  so  that  he  could  hardly 
hold  the  United  States  history  from  which  he  was 
attempting  to  read.  He  glanced  up  at  the  flag 
which  fluttered  over  his  head,  and  went  on — 
" '  When,  in  the  course  of  human  events,  it  be- 
comes necessary ' " 

Barclay  Snooks  and  company  here  groaned  in 
concert  and  discharged  a  volley  of  mud-balls  at 
the  orator.  One  of  these  knocked  off  his  peacock 
feathered  hat. 

"You  go  away  from  here,  and  let  us  alone. 
This  is  our  mass-meeting,  and  this  is  a  free  coun- 
try. You  mind  your  business  and  we'll  'tend  to 
ours. — Girls,  you  just  keep  your  seats.  I'll  go  on 
and  read  this  Declamation  if  you'll  stand  by  me. 
*  When,  in  the  course  of  human  events ' " 

"  Wipe  off  your  chin,"  shouted  Barclay. 

"  Pull  down  your  vest,"  piped  Seneca. 

These  insults  were  emphasized  by  a  shower  of 
mud-balls  and  eggs.  This  second  discharge  be- 
spattered Tom  from  head  to  foot.  Cuff  Chuck 
advanced  to  the  platform  and  attempted  to  tear 
down  the  flag.  Seneca,  who  had  learned  from 
Squinty  the  domestic  origin  of  the  banner,  cried 


78  TOM  TAD 

out  derisively,  "Hurrah  for  Han  Tad's  old 
frock!" 

"  Seneca  Snooks,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself  to  make  fun  of  the  flag  of  your  country. 
You  ought  to  be  respectful  to  any  lady's  dress, 
and  consider  my  feelings,  and  how  would  you 
like  it  if  somebody  was  to  laugh  at  your  sister's 
dress  on  a  liberty  pole." 

This  appeal  to  the  finer  feelings  of  the  Snooks 
nature  failed  of  its  ingenuous  object.  Making 
an  ugly  face,  Barclay  pointed  his  finger  at  the 
orator  and,  in  a  tone  of  mockery,  drawled  out : 

"Tom  Tad's  sister, 
A  dude  kissed  her." 

The  manner  in  which  this  poetical  gem  was 
delivered  enraged  Tom  beyond  all  forbearance. 
Seneca  and  Cuff  Chuck  at  once  repeated  the  ex- 
asperating couplet,  adding  jeers  and  hisses. 
Barclay  advanced  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
platform,  and  stood,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  staring  contemptuously  at  the  small 
victim  of  his  persecution.  It  was  observed  by 
the  mass-meeting  that  Captain  Tadmore's  face 
turned  white  as  ashes.  The  history  of  the 
United  States  had  fallen  from  his  hand.  To  his 
right  epaulette  were  clinging  elongated  drops  of 
egg-yolk,  like  enormous  yellow  tears. 

"Tom  Tad's  sister, 
A  dude  kissed  her," 


LOSES  HIS  MORAL  COURAGE       79 

chanted  Barclay  again,  glancing  from  Tom  to 
the  fluttering  emblem  on  the  bean-pole. 

"  Barclay  Snooks,"  said  Tom,  stepping  to  the 
edge  of  the  platform,  which  was  so  high  that  his 
feet  were  on  a  level  with  Barclay's  breast, — 
"  Barclay  Snooks,  you  are  a  liar !  You  are  an 
ornery  skunk!  Now  you  just  get  right  down 
on  your  knees  right  before  that  flag  and  take 
back  what  you  said,  or  I'll  knock  your  durn 
brains  out." 

This  unexpected  speech  produced  a  momentary 
silence,  which  was  broken  by  the  voice  of  Bar- 
clay, saying, 

"  O,  rats  ! " 

In  the  next  instant,  Captain  Tadmore  executed 
a  surprising  maneuvre, — what  might  be  called  in 
military  language,  a  coup  de  main.  "With  the 
agility  of  a  tiger,  he  sprang  upon  the  elder 
Snooks,  striking  that  gentleman  so  violently  as 
to  produce  a  most  alarming  effect.  The  great 
Barclay,  leader  of  gangs,  wearer  of  long  tails, 
owner  of  a  shooting  iron,  and  smoker  of  stogies, 
was  knocked  breathless  and  senseless,  and  he  lay 
sprawling  on  the  ground.  His  furious  adversary 
began  to  pound  the  fallen  enemy  in  the  face, 
when  Seneca  came  to  the  rescue,  seizing  Tom  by 
the  hair,  and  assailing  him  with  claws  and  teeth. 
But  Charley  Blogson  pounced  upon  Seneca,  and 
dragged  him  by  the  leg,  from  the  conflict.  Cuff 
Chuck  immediately  took  Seneca's  place,  and,  as 


80  TOM  TAD 

the  colored  boy  was  much  stronger  and  heavier 
than  Tom,  it  seemed  likely  that  his  attack  would 
turn  the  tide  of  victory.  To  the  surprise  of 
everybody,  including  himself,  the  valiant  captain 
dealt  his  sable  antagonist  a  blood-fetching  blow 
on  the  nasal  organ.  The  girls  screamed,  the 
boys  cheered,  Cuff  cried  "  Murder,"  and  "  old 
Barclay,"  recovering  his  senses,  uttered  a  groan. 
At  this  crisis  all  parties  were  astonished  by  a 
man  whose  quiet  approach  no  one  had  noticed, 
and  who  now  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  ex- 
cited throng.  "Doctor  Eldon!"  was  the  shrill 
cry  of  the  girls. 

What  further  vengeance  Tom  might  have 
taken  was  prevented  by  the  abject  surrender  of 
Barclay,  who  ignobly  muttered,  "Enough." 
The  code  of  honor  would  not  permit  the  victor 
to  strike  another  blow  after  that  surrender. 
Base  indeed  is  the  conqueror  who  grants  no 
quarter  to  the  enemy  who  confesses  before  wit- 
nesses that  he  has  had  "  enough."  Both  the  com- 
batants got  upon  their  feet.  Barclay  took  his 
gun,  and,  deserted  by  his  brother  and  Cuff,  slunk 
homeward.  Tom,  notwithstanding  his  victory, 
felt  miserable,  both  in  body  and  in  mind.  He  too 
slipped  away  from  the  company,  in  sorry  plight, 
and  sought  his  home  by  way  of  the  stables,  the 
back  yard,  and  the  rear  entrance. 

The  children  quickly  dispersed,  and  Uncle 
Felix,  carrying  in  his  hand  Tom's  School  His- 


LOSES  HIS  MOKAL  COUKAGE       81 

tory,  walked  homeward  leisurely,  not  displeased 
with  the  issue  of  the  combat  he  had  just  wit- 
nessed. The  scene  of  the  late  demonstration 
and  revolutionary  war  was  deserted.  There 
stood  the  platform,  with  its  meagre  decoration 
of  pitiful  rags ;  there  lay  Captain  Tadmore's  torn 
paper  cap,  the  peacock  feathers  scattered ;  there 
hung  languidly  in  the  sultry  air  the  insulted  and 
vindicated  banner  of  liberty,  made  of  sister 
Han's  frock. 

Tom  wrote  to  his  Cousin  Frank  a  letter  giving 
his  version  of  the  story  of  his  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence and  its  consequences.  In  this  letter, 
he  said : 

"  On  the  *£  of  July,  as  I  was  saying,  we  made 
our  errangements  to  have  a  mass-meeting  in 
Charley  Blogson's  orchard  where  we  fixed  up  a 
nostrum  for  me  to  make  an  oration.  We  had 
flags  and  guns  out  of  brooms  and  wooden  swords 
but  mine  was  tin  with  red  ink  for  blood  on  them 
and  plumes  out  of  roosters  tales  and  the  proces- 
sion marched  after  me  with  Charley  Blogson 
beating  the  tin  basin  for  a  drum  and  playing  on 
his  mouth  to  illustrate  a  band.  I  kept  waving 
my  sword  to  show  them  how  General  Grant 
looked  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo  and  when  the 
crowd  came  up  to  the  nostrum  I  hollered  out 
halt!  The  girls  didn't  know  how  to  halt  but 
Charley  explained  to  them  and  after  while  they 
got  to  halting  pretty  well.  Then  I  rose  up  and 


82  TOM  TAD 

began  to  read  the  Declamation  of  Independence 
when  old  Barclay  Snooks  and  Seneca  and  Cuff 
Chuck  and  a  whole  lot  of  them  ruffs  came  hoot- 
ing out  from  behind  the  barn  and  began  to  throw 
mud  and  eggs  at  me.  you  know  them  Snooks 
boys  have  been  a  bullying  me  all  my  life.  Bar- 
clay is  a  great  big  but  Seneca  is  not  much  bigger 
than  me.  Barclay  is  the  feller  that  went  to  the 
circus  with  the  McStaver  girls  and  called  me  a 
kid.  He  is  trying  to  raze  a  mustash  and  his  voice 
is  changeable  and  sounds  half  the  time  like  a 
bull  frog  and  tother  half  like  a  katy-did. 

"  Well  the  band  struck  up  Hell  Columbia  but 
them  outsiders  had  no  respect  for  the  band.  I 
told  them  to  go  away  for  it  was  our  mass-meet- 
ing and  this  was  a  free  Country.  Cuff  Chuck 
tried  to  haul  down  our  flag.  When  Barclay 
found  out  it  was  sister  Han's  dress  he  thought 
hed  rattle  me  and  he  came  right  up  near  in  front 
of  the  nostrum  and  sung  out  first  in  his  bull-frog 
voice  and  then  in  his  katy-did  voice  some  mean 
insultuous  verses  about  Han.  Well  then  I  hadn't 
a  speck  of  moral  curridge  left  in  me  and  I  dove 
right  off  the  nostrum  at  him  and  lit  in  his  stom- 
ick  so  hard  that  it  knocked  the  breath  out  of  him 
and  I  began  to  hit  him  with  all  my  mite  and 
mane  in  the  face  and  eyes  and  shake  him  till 
Seneca  jumped  on  me  and  began  to  scratch  and 
bite  but  Charley  Blogson  went  for  him  and  then 
Cuff  Chuck  pitched  into  me  and  I  wasnt  a  bit 


scared  but  happy  and  I  was  a  heap  stronger  than 
I  am  and  I  hit  Cuff  so  hard  on  the  nose  that  the 
goar  made  us  both  goary  when  of  a  sudden  there 
stood  Uncle  Felix. 

"I  snuck  home  and  when  mother  and  sister 
Han  and  Aunt  Tildy  saw  me  all  tore  up  and 
muddy  and  eggy  mother  said  *  shame  where  was 
your  moral  curridge.'  Well  Frank  then  I  told 
them  all  about  it  and  how  when  Barclay  said 
that  about  Han  I  hadnt  a  speck  of  moral  cur- 
ridge  left  in  me  and  clean  forgot  about  mother 
and  the  hickory-oil  and  my  little  coffin  and  my 
prayers  and  pitched  in.  They  didn't  say  another 
word  but  mother  kind  of  laughed  and  Frank 
sure  as  you  live  sister  Han  just  put  her  arms 
around  my  kneck  and  gave  me  the  best  kiss  in 
her  collection." 


XIY 

TOM  LECTURES  ON  "ANIMALS  AND  SO  FOARTH  " 

THOMAS  TADMOEE  was  not,  by  choice,  a  studi- 
ous  and  school-going  boy.  The  two  things  which 
he  held  in  special  aversion  were  silence  and 
restraint.  Give  him  a  wide  range  and  plenty  of 
noise,  with  some  muscular  live  thing  to  tussle 
with,  and  he  was  happy.  With  a  sigh,  almost  a 
groan,  he  carried  his  satchel  and  shining  morning 
face  to  the  house  of  instruction  when  the  first  of 
September  summoned  him  from  liberty  to  bond- 
age, and  into  the  presence  of  Principal  Gadmeter 
and  the  whole  "faculty"  of  the  Forest  Glen 
Union  School.  This  school  was  considered  good 
of  its  kind,  but  the  kind  was  bad,  and  so  the  bet- 
ter the  worse.  At  least  so  thought  Uncle  Felix, 
who,  with  all  his  good  nature,  was  somewhat 
critical  and  sarcastic.  He  regarded  the  village 
school  as  an  educational  mill  which  ground  out 
valueless  results  only  to  record  the  daily  grists 
with  automatic  regularity.  The  classification  of 
the  pupils  was  exact,  the  grading  precise,  the 
teaching  methodical,  but  the  school  lacked  vital 
interest.  Principal  Gadmeter  was  intent  solely 
on  running  the  machine  and  he  seemed  to  look 
84 


TOM  LECTUKES  ON  ANIMALS       85 

upon  the  children  as  mere  material  to  keep  the 
cogs  from  rusting.  In  his  view  the  work  of  edu- 
cation consisted  in  pushing  or  pulling  boys  and 
girls  through  the  course  of  studies  according  to 
the  printed  "rules  of  the  board."  Everything 
he  attempted  to  teach,  even  morals  and  religion, 
he  hoped  to  impart  by  mechanical  processes. 

The  memoriter  system  which  Uncle  Felix  con- 
temptuously described  as  the  "goose-liver 
method,"  Josephus  Gadmeter  extolled  as  the 
only  practical  mode  of  fitting  the  young  for  the 
duties  of  life.  Sometimes,  in  a  public  address, 
when  warmed  to  a  high  temperature  of  eloquence 
and  virtue,  the  Professor  delivered  thunder  to 
the  effect  that  the  Union  School  of  Forest  Glen 
was  not  only  "  fitting  our  youth,  male  and  female, 
for  the  duties  of  this  life,"  but  was  also  "  prepar- 
ing immortal  souls  for  the  endless  ages  of 
eternity." 

Tom  submitted  to  the  inevitable,  and,  with  the 
rest  of  his  class,  was  daily  fitted  for  life,  death 
and  immortality,  by  machinery.  His  ready 
memory,  vivid  fancy,  and  voluble  tongue  gave 
him  advantage  over  the  average  boy  of  his  age. 
He  would  rattle  off  a  recitation  with  the  un- 
thinking fluency  of  a  parrot  or  a  phonograph 
and,  had  it  not  been,  as  he  complained,  that  "  de- 
portment pulled  him  down,"  his  percents.  would 
have  ranged  high  in  the  eighties. 

"  "What  did  you  get  in  'rithmetic,  Charley  ? " 


86  TOM  TAD 

he  would  ask,  and  without  waiting  for  a  reply, 
"  I  got  97  in  probs.  and  90  in  g'ografy  and  100 
in  compo.,  and  100  in  declamation.  But  I  only 
got  42  in  spelling,  and  23  j^  in  conduct.  That 
brings  me  only  a  little  above  75,  average.  I 
don't  see  why  they  give  me  so  many  demerits  ; 
— whisperin'  I  s'pose  or  laughin'  out  loud.  I 
can't  help  laughin'  when  there's  fun  goin'  on." 

The  teachers  were  always  under  Tom's  watch- 
ful eye,  and  he  understood  them  much  better 
than  they  knew  themselves  or  him.  Had  he 
pored  upon  his  books  as  industriously  as  he 
studied  the  being,  actions,  and  passions  of  his 
mentors,  what  a  scholar  he  might  have  become  ! 
He  was  well  aware  that  Miss  Marks  of  room  B 
could  be  influenced  by  donations  of  red  apples ; 
that  Miss  Crinkler  who  had  been  in  the  school 
before  the  new  schoolhouse  was  built,  and  before 
Mr.  Gadmeter  was  elected  Principal,  was  carry- 
ing on  a  flirtation  with  Professor  Eipantare,  the 
elocutionist,  who  came  twice  a  week  to  drill  the 
senior  class  in  "  vocal  gymnastics."  Tom  was 
certain  that  the  new  teacher  in  grade  F  was 
afraid  to  "  put  her  foot  down  on  behavior,"  and 
that  she  gave  out  that  the  answer  in  the  book 
was  wrong,  to  avoid  owning  that  she  couldn't 
work  the  problem.  The  boys  had  proof  that  the 
answer  was  right,  for  Jo  Bogus  possessed  a  key 
to  the  arithmetic.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that 
every  pupil  in  the  school  knew  that  Jo  had  that 


TOM  LECTUKES  ON  ANIMALS       8? 

key  and  used  it,  while  not  one  of  the  teachers 
entertained  the  slightest  suspicion  that  such  was 
the  case.  They  regarded  Jo  Bogus  as  an  ex- 
ceptionally nice  and  candid  boy,  who  handed  in 
very  neat  papers,  and  went  to  Sunday-school 
regularly. 

There  was  one  instructor  in  the  school,  Miss 
Grace  Belmont,  whose  skill,  wisdom,  and  devo- 
tion wrought  miracles  of  inspiration  in  her 
pupils,  in  spite  of  the  unfavorable  influence  of 
the  "  system,"  and  the  Procrustean  theory  of  Mr. 
Gadmeter.  This  young  woman  was  honored  and 
loved  by  the  entire  school ;  Tom's  admiration  for 
her  knew  no  bounds. 

The  daily  routine  at  school  tasks  did  not  ab- 
sorb all  of  Tom's  energies.  He  found  plenty  of 
spare  time,  before  and  after  school  hours,  and  on 
Saturdays,  to  pursue  the  study  of  natural  his- 
tory, in  his  peculiar  way. 

"  Sam,"  said  he  one  day  to  his  friend  from  the 
riverside,  "I've  a  mind  to  make  up  a  kind  of 
funny  lecture  on  animals.  You  know  I've  got  a 
heap  of  animal  information  from  reading  and 
fishing  and  collecting  insects  and  so  on.  Then 
I've  heard  a  good  many  lectures  at  the  natural 
hist'ry  society  with  lantern  slides,  and  I  re'lize 
how  they  do  it.  Uncle  Felix  is  a  curate  in  the 
museum ;  he's  a  pachyderm,  too,  you  know,  and 
stuffs  nearly  every  day." 

"  I  thought  he  was  a  doctor." 


88  TOM  TAD 

"  Yes,  he  is ;  a  doctor  and  a  Ph.  D.  But  he  is 
a  pachyderm,  too.  He  has  piles  of  stuffed  yaks, 
and  owls  in  the  museum,  and  snakes  and  horn 
toads  and  I  don't  know  what  all,  in  jars  of  liquor, 
and  coleopteras  on  long  pins,  and  books  with 
painted  pictures.  Science  is  order  reduced  to 
system  and  pop'lar  science  is  system  reduced  to 
disorder,  he  says. — Don't  you  think  I'm  posted  up 
well  enough  to  lecture  the  boys  ?  " 

Not  getting  as  much  encouragement  as  he  ex. 
pected  from  Sam,  the  ambitious  young  savant 
laid  his  plans  before  Charley  Blogson  who 
heartily  seconded  them.  Hand  bills  scrawled 
in  vari-colored  ink  were  prepared,  announcing  in 
big  capitals,  and  with  many  exclamation  points, 
that  Thomas  Tadmore,  junior,  would  lecture,  in 
Blogson's  barn  "next  Saturday  afternoon  at 
p.  M.  Sharp,  on  Animals  and  So  Foarth."  The 
price  of  admission  was  fixed  at  six  marbles,  or 
three  fish  hooks,  or  two  sticks  of  chewing-gum. 
The  bills  stated  that  no  girls  would  be 
"  aloud  "  to  attend  the  meeting.  Charley  acted  as 
doorkeeper,  and  sergeant-at-arms,  and  selected 
for  his  assistant  Squinty  Eunkle  to  whose  shirt 
front  was  fastened  a  huge  tin-star,  the  emblem 
of  authority.  On  the  afternoon  set  apart  for 
Tom's  facetious  performance,  a  frolicksome  audi- 
ence assembled  on  the  threshing  floor  of  the 
great  barn.  Blogson  had  piled  up  a  pedestal  of 
hay  from  the  top  of  which  the  speaker  was  to 


TOM    NOW    CAUSED  A  SENSATION    HV    I.EAI'IXC    FROM    THE    HAY-I'II.E. 


TOM  LECTUKES  ON  ANIMALS       89 

deliver  his  oration.  When  all  was  in  readiness 
for  the  speech  to  begin,  Charley,  grinning  from 
ear  to  ear,  said,  "  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  I  inter- 
duce  you  to  a  man  that  don't  need  any  inter- 
duction." 

Tom,  who,  up  to  this  crisis,  had  been  invisible, 
now  caused  a  sensation  by  leaping  down  to  the 
hay-pile  from  a  mow  in  which  he  had  lain  con- 
cealed. He  wore  an  old  swallow-tailed  coat,  had 
a  newspaper  spread  over  his  breast  to  represent 
a  dress  shirt,  and  his  nose  supported  a  pair  of 
spectacles  with  no  glass  in  the  rims.  After  bow- 
ing low,  to  the  front,  to  the  right  and  to  the  left, 
he  cleared  his  throat  and  began : 

"  Fellow  vertebrates ; 

"Man  is  an  animal  and  boy  is 
an  animal  and  I  am  glad  to  see  so  many  of 
you  animals  here.  "We  ought  to  pursue  animals, 
for  they  are  the  mainspring  of  education,  and, 
as  Professor  Gadmeter  says,  they  help  a  heap  to 
develop  the  manhood  and  womanhood  in  a  boy, 
and  to  draw  out  character.  Boys,  you  ought  to 
have  your  character  clean  drawed  out  of  you, 
like  me  and  Charley. 

"  Now  pay  'tention.  All  animals  with  a  few 
exceptions,  is  more  or  less  alike.  We  shall 
divide  them  up  into  two  classes :  first  them  that 
are  more  alike,  and,  second,  them  that  are  less 
alike.  Fish  belongs  to  the  former  and  birds  to 
the  latter.  You  all  know  cat-fish  and  cat-birds. 


90  TOM  TAD 

The  cat-fish  is  a  more  peculiar  quadruped  than 
the  cat-bird.  Their  young  are  called  kit-fish 
because  their  favorite  haunt  is  a  fish-kit. — The 
crawfish  hasn't  any  craw.  I  reckon  crabs  eat 
crab-apples. — Hold  on ;  I've  got  some  notes  here 
in  my  memory  random  book.  O  yes !  here  we 
are. 

"Next  to  fish  comes  birds  and  aves.  I've  got 
a  collection  of  them,  hard  to  beat,  as  far  as  it 
goes.  I  have  collected  one  bird  and  one  ovum. 
The  tropical  longitudes  is  more  favorable  to  the 
feathered  tribes,  'specially  ostriches,  which  lay 
alligator's  eggs.  A  penquin  is  a  marsupial  fowl, 
so  called  because  the  natives  use  the  tail-feathers 
to  make  pens  like  goose  quills.  A  young  goose 
is  called  a  gosling  and  a  young  moose  is  a  mos- 
ling.  Birds  chaw  with  their  gizzards. 

"And  now  to  sum  up.  "We  have  explained 
two  halves  of  our  subject,  viz.,  namely,  birds  and 
fish.  In  birds  we  include  two  sorts,  viz.,  namely, 
birds  proper  and  birds  improper.  Fish  is  more 
widespread,  but  the  bulk  of  them  may  be  slung 
under  two  heads,  viz.,  namely,  real  fish  and  craw- 
fish. Real  fish  we  divide  into  big  and  little,  and 
crawfish  into  live  and  dead,  which  takes  them 
all  in." 

At  this  point  the  applause  became  uproarious 
and  the  sergeant-at-arms  had  all  he  could  do  to 
restore  silence.  The  speaker  bowed  his  thanks 
and  continued. 


TOM  LECTURES  ON  ANIMALS       91 

u  I  am  sorry  for  the  boy  who  reads  light  read- 
ing. Heavy  is  best.  Animals  is  a  fact.  Zoology 
is  the  most  solidifying  reading  you  can  git  a  hold 
of.  It  takes  brains.  But  as  Professor  Gadmeter 
always  tells  you,  obstacles  overcome  every  effort. 
Order  is  heaven's  first  law.  Genus  is  the  second, 
and  so  on. 

"There  is  two  kinds  of  whales — the  right 
whale  and  the  wrong  whale.  Whales  carry  har- 
poons to  defend  themselves  against  the  icebergs. 
You  think  a  whale  is  a  big  fish,  but  you  are 
away  off,  because  you  don't  know  beans  about 
zoology.  A  whale  is  somewhat  like  a  fish.  But 
he  is  morewhat  unlike  a  fish.  The  whale  is  full 
of  whale-blubber,  which  is  used  to  feed  Eskimos. 

"  Here  I  have  a  picture  of  the  gnu,"  (Tom  dis- 
played a  large  charcoal  sketch).  "  It  is  found  in 
the  wilds  of  Africa  and  maybe  in  the  tames  of 
Asia.  This  is  an  old  gnu.  I  guess  it  came  from 
the  gnu  world. 

"  I  could  tell  you  lots  more,  but  you've  had 
your  chewing-gum's  worth. — There's  a  beast 
called  the  unicorn.  I  never  saw  one  in  this 
country  though  I've  lived  here  all  my  life. 
Travelers  say  he  eats  unicorn  cakes. — The  rattle- 
snake is  a  beautiful  provision  of  nature.  They 
are  good  to  eat.  You  have  to  take  off  their 
rattles  so  they  can't  bite  you." 

The  audience  greeted  this  bit  of  science  with 
prolonged  cries  of  "  Ah  ! " — 


92  TOM  TAD 

"  You  think  you'll  rattle  me,  do  you  ?  I  meant 
to  tell  you  about  sponges  and  mummies,  but  I'll 
leave  that  part  out.  Uncle  Felix  has  a  mummy 
in  the  museum  that  he  caught  on  its  nest,  in  the 
jungles  of  Egypt.  It  died  on  the  voyage  and  is 
now  an  extinc  specie." 

The  good-natured  clamor  of  the  boys  quite 
drowned  the  speech  of  the  mock  lecturer. 

"  Come  to  Order,"  cried  Blogson  at  the  top  of 
his  voice. 

"Come  to  Order,"  squeaked  Squinty  Eunkle 
with  a  silly  grimace. 

"  Come  to  Order,"  yelled  all  the  boys  together. 

"  Friends,  Romans,  Countrymen,  lend  me  your 
ears !  "  shouted  Tom.  "  I  come  not  here  to  talk. 
Let  that  plebeian  talk ! "  pointing  to  Squinty. 
"But  here  I  come  to  speak  what  I  do  know. 
And  I  do  know,"  cried  the  orator,  jumping  down 
from  the  hay-pile  and  stripping  off  his  swallow- 
tail, "  I  do  know  that  the  wild  grapes  are  getting 
ripe  in  Squire  Hoyle's  woods,  and  I'm  hungry, 
and  who'll  follow  me  ?  " 

"  I !  —  I !  —  I !  "  answered  the  boys  in  concert. 
The  barn  was  deserted  in  a  moment,  and  all  went 
scurrying  across  the  fields,  and  over  fences,  away, 
away  to  the  woods  of  Squire  Hoyle,  Tom  leading 
the  van  and  Squinty  bringing  up  the  rear. 


XY 

A  EAID  ON  SQUIRE  HOYLE'S  OEOHAED 

THE  young  marauders  guided  by  Tom,  found 
the  spot  where  the  wild  grape-vines  grew,  but,  to 
their  disappointment,  the  vines  had  been  rifled  of 
most  of  the  fruit.  Broken  branches  and  fresh 
leaves  strewn  upon  the  ground  gave  evidence 
that  other  robbers  of  the  greenwood  had  very 
recently  been  up  the  trees,  and  had  stolen  the 
coveted  purple  bunches. 

"  "We  are  too  late,"  exclaimed  Blogson ;  "  some- 
body's been  ahead  of  us." 

"  Yander  they  are,"  said  Squinty. 

"Where?" 

"  Yander  I  seed  Sineca  Snooks  go  in  that  holler 
tree,  I  did." 

With  a  whoop  and  hallo  Tom  and  his  tribe  ran 
to  the  tree.  It  was  a  huge  sycamore  so  much 
rotted  and  burned  out  that  the  cavity  in  its  trunk 
formed  a  room  large  enough  to  hold  half  a  dozen 
boys.  Within  this  sylvan  hiding-place  three 
persons  were  discovered,  Seneca  Snooks,  Bar- 
clay, and  Cuff  Chuck.  The  spoils  of  the  grape- 
vines were  also  there.  Barclay  was  seated  with 
his  legs  wide  apart,  and  his  back  resting  against 

93 


94  TOM  TAD 

the  black  wall  of  the  tree:  he  was  smoking  a 
stogie. 

Tom  was  first  to  look  in  upon  his  late  foe, 
whom  he  had  not  met  since  the  fight  on  the 
Fourth  of  July. 

"  What  you  want  ?  "  growled  Barclay. 

"  Grapes,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

By  this  time  Tom's  whole  party  had  gathered 
at  the  door  of  Barclay's  house.  The  great  man 
thought  it  best  to  be  accommodating. 

"  There's  nothing  mean  about  me,"  he  said,  in 
conciliatory  tones.  "Of  course  I'll  sheer  with 
my  friends.  Sineca,  give  them  grapes  to  Mr. 
Tadmore,  and  these  gentlemen." 

Seneca  proceeded  to  divide  the  pillaged  fruit. 
The  grapes,  not  half  ripe,  were  fiercely  sour, 
bitter  and  astringent.  But  the  boys  ate  them 
with  avidity  and  called  them  delicious. 

"  Where's  your  gun  ?  "  asked  Tom,  not  seeing 
that  precious  engine. 

"I'm  having  a  new  silver  plate  put  on  the 
stock.  The  gunsmith  said  he  would  put  one  on 
fer  four  dollars,  and  I  said,  '  Go  ahead,  I  don't 
keer  fer  money:  put  her  on  if  it  costs  ten 
dollars.' " 

"  What  will  you  take  for  the  gun  when  the 
plate  is  on  ?  " 

"  I  don't  keer  to  part  with  that  gun  fer  no  money. 
My  gran'daddy  paid  five  hundred  dollars  fer  it 
when  it  was  new — wasn't  it  five  hundred,  Sineca  ?  " 


KAID  ON  HOYLE'S  OECHARD       95 

"  That  was  before  I  was  born,"  replied  Seneca 
cautiously,  for  he  knew  that  the  boys  considered 
Barclay  a  notorious  stretcher  of  the  truth. 

"Guns  was  mighty  dear  in  them  days,"  re- 
marked Barclay,  "I'll  let  it  go  to  a  friend  fer 
fifty  dollars.  If  you  wanted  that  gun,  Tadmore, 
I'd  let  it  go  fer  twenty-five  dollars  cash." 

"I've  only  got  ten  dollars,  altogether,"  con- 
fessed Tom,  "  and  I  want  to  get  me  a  bicycle  and 
a  pony,  as  well  as  a  gun." 

"  I  need  a  little  hard  cash  now  to  lend  to  a 
feller,  or  I'd  jist  as  soon  give  you  that  gun.  I've 
loaned  out  most  of  my  funds.  I  spend  a  good 
deal,  too,  on  hosses  and  dogs ;  I've  lost  scandal- 
ous sence  we  moved  down  here.  You  remember 
Sineca,  when  we  lived  up  at  Christiansburg, 
we  had  slathers  of  money  ?  " 

"  Lots  and  gobs,"  assented  Seneca. 

"I'd  like  to  go  back  to  the  old  place,  gaul 
durned  if  I  wouldn't,"  resumed  the  great  man. 
"  "We  built  a  four-story  house  with  eight  rooms 
in  every  story  and  a  tower.  We  had  butcher's 
meat  every  day." 

"  Gosh  ! "    This  from  Squinty  Runkle. 

"  And  store-tea,"  Seneca  ventured  to  say. 

"  We  raised  our  own  tea  up  at  Christiansburg, 
Seneca." 

"  But  tea  don't  grow  in  this  country,"  said  one 
of  the  boys. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  know  that  ? "  retorted 


96  TOM  TAD 

Barclay  indignantly.  "  This  tea  was  raised  in  a 
hot-house.  That's  the  way  we  raised  our  own 

coffee  too But,  gentlemen,  I've  been  a 

plannin'  fer  you." 

"How's  that?"  asked  Tom;  "plannin' 
what?" 

Barclay  emerged  from  the  tree  trunk,  threw 
away  the  stub  of  his  cigar,  which  Cuff  Chuck 
picked  up,  and,  after  a  mysterious  pause,  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "  If  there's  any  white-livers  in  this 
crowd,  let  them  sneak  to  their  dens."  Barclay 
paused  again,  and,  no  one  sneaking  to  a  den,  the 
inference  was  that  there  were  no  white-livers  pres- 
ent. "  If  there's  any  brave  men  here,  let  them  f  oiler 
their  leader  and  do  what  he  says."  Tom  and  his 
friends  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  proving  their 
bravery  at  the  sacrifice  of  owning  Barclay  for 
captain.  Nevertheless,  no  one  demurred,  since 
they  were  all  curious  to  learn  what  enterprise 
was  ahead  of  them.  The  courageous  Snooks, 
like  some  new  Robin  Hood,  headed  the  little  band 
of  foresters,  and  marched  cautiously  from  the 
woods,  and  across  a  wide  field,  and  finally  up 
along  a  narrow  lane  terminating  at  a  set  of 
"  bars  "  in  a  fence  on  the  other  side  of  which  was 
Squire  Hoyle's  apple  orchard. 

"  Now  you  drap  onto  my  plan.  I'll  stand  here 
and  watch  out  fer  the  dog,  or  the  Squire,  and 
you  boys  jist  slide  over  the  fence,  and  slip  up  to 
that  big  tree  with  the  yeller  apples." 


RAID  ON  HOYLE'S  ORCHARD       97 

"  No  1 "  protested  Tom.  "  No,  I  won't  steal. 
Come  on,  boys ;  let's  go  away." 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  away  when  I  gave  you  a 
chance  in  the  woods  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  tell  us  you  were  going  to  steal. 
I'm  no  white-liver,  Barclay  Snooks,  and  you 
know  it." 

"  I  ain't  a  callin'  you  a  white-liver.  You're  a 
blackenin'  my  repputtation,  callin'  me  a  thief." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  thief,  if  you  steal.  What  is 
a  thief  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Barclay  maliciously,  "  I  s'pose  a 
boy  that  gits  grapes  that  don't  belong  to  him  is 
a  thief." 

"  That's  different." 

"  Yaas,  that's  different,"  mocked  the  large  boy. 
"  Gittin'  grapes  is  stealin'  without  danger,  and 
gittin'  apples  in  a  bold  way,  is  stealin'  with 
danger.  I'd  ruther  be  a  robber  nor  a  sneak- 
thief." 

"  I  won't  steal,"  said  Tom.  "  You  boys  can 
do  as  you  like.  I'm  going  home.  Come  on, 
Charley." 

"  You  are  too  durned  good  fer  this  world.  Go 
to  your  mammies.  I'm  bound  to  have  some 
apples.  Sineca,  you  and  Cuff  climb  over  and  run 
to  that  there  tree  and  fetch  me  your  hats  full  of 
the  biggest." 

The  two  boys  thus  ordered,  obeyed,  though 
unwillingly,  and  Squinty  could  not  resist  the 


98  TOM  TAD 

temptation  to  fill  his  hat  also.  Influenced  by 
the  example  of  these  three  petty  thieves,  and  by 
the  cries  of  a  ravenous  appetite,  two  of  Tom's 
companions,  Wesley  Crooke  and  Jo  Bogus, 
joined  the  pillagers.  Barclay  had  the  discretion 
to  remain  outside  the  orchard.  The  five  foragers 
with  nimble  celerity  gathered  their  hats,  pockets, 
and  hands  full  of  apples,  not  failing  to  utilize  their 
mouths  by  taking  many  a  "  hog-bite."  They 
were  about  ready  to  rejoin  Barclay,  when  that 
vigilant  sentinel  observed  to  his  dismay,  that 
Squire  Hoyle  himself  was  coming  down  the  lane, 
and  was  not  a  hundred  feet  from  the  bars. 
Barclay  saw  one  chance  of  self-exculpation.  As- 
suming an  air  of  virtuous  rage  he  bawled  out, 

"Hey  there!  You  young  scoundrels.  Git 
out  of  Squire  Hoyle's  orchard  or  I'll  thrash  every 
mother's  son  of  you.  Hain't  you  ashamed  to 
steal  of  such  a  nice  man  as  Squire  Hoyle ! — Why, 
sure  as  I  live,  here  is  the  gentleman  now. 
'Scuse  me,  Squire  Hoyle,  I  seed  a  squad  of  nasty, 
low-lived  boys  in  your  orchard,  and  I  run  over 
here  to  drive  them  off." 

"  You  are  the  scurviest  whelp  of  the  pack !  " 
cried  the  Squire,  brandishing  a  hickory  gad  and 
bringing  it  down  with  a  swish  on  Barclay's  back. 
"You  worthless,  sneaking,  lying  rascal."  And 
he  trounced  Barclay  until  the  wretched  youth 
was  barely  able  to  limp  home. 

The  pilferers  escaped,  clinging  to  their  plunder. 


EAID  ON  HOYLE'S  ORCHARD       99 

Once  safely  out  of  the  orchard,  they  sped  after 
Tom  and  his  companion.  Alas  for  the  weakness  of 
human  nature  and  the  power  of  youthful  appe- 
tite !  This  chronicle  is  sorry  to  report  that  the 
moral  virtue  which  resisted  the  temptation  to 
steal,  yielded  to  the  desire  to  taste  Squire 
Hoyle's  apples,  and,  like  our  first  parents,  Tom 
and  his  comrade  partook  of  fruit  not  only  for- 
bidden, but  stolen. 


XVI 

PRINCIPAL  GADMETER'S  SAGACITY 

SQUIRE  HOYLE  made  haste  to  inform  the  school 
authorities  that  his  orchard  had  been  pillaged, 
and  to  demand  that  Mr.  Gadmeter  identify  and 
punish  the  robbers.  This  the  professor  cheer- 
fully consented  to  do,  for  he  was  one  of  those 
just  men  who  hold  that  it  is  better  that  ninety 
and  nine  innocent  boys  should  suffer  than  that 
one  guilty  should  escape.  He  prided  himself  on 
his  detective  ability,  and  was  in  the  habit  of 
assuming  that  he  knew  all  that  was  going  on  in 
the  little  world  over  which  he  ruled ;  he  claimed 
not  only  to  understand  the  dispositions,  but  even 
to  read  the  thoughts  and  motives  of  the  boys  and 
girls.  "  I  have  eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head,"  he 
would  say. 

The  indignant  Squire  called  at  the  Principal's 
house  on  Saturday  evening  and  stated  his 
grievance. 

"  I'm  not  a  man  to  make  a  fuss,"  were  his  in- 
troductory words.  "But  I'm  not  a  man  that 
will  stand  everything.  I  won't  stand  it  to  have 
those  tarnal  boys  steal  my  apples."  And  he 
100 


GADMETER'S  SAGACITY          101 

proceeded  to  relate  the  sad  story  of  the  depreda- 
tions made  on  his  orchard  that  afternoon. 

"I  caught  one  of  the  ring-leaders,  and  gave 
him  a  trouncing  :  that  was  this  great  lazy  Snooks 
boy,  almost  a  man  grown." 

"  Those  Snooks  boys  are  not  members  of  our 
school,  and,  in  fact,  sir,  I  feel  sure  that  no  boy 
who  is  a  member  of  our  Union  School  would  be 
guilty  of  pilfering.  That  would  be  contrary  to 
the  Rules  of  the  Board,  and  to  the  moral  instruc- 
tion which  I  impart.  Character  is  the  main 
thing  we  aim  to  develop.  I  venture  to  assure 
you,  sir,  that  no  other  school  in  the  State  gives 
so  much  attention  to  fitting  youths  for  the 
duties  of  life,  as  does  the  Union  School  of  Forest 
Glen." 

"  That's  all  right,  Mr.  Gadmeter,  but  a  pack  of 
your  boys  robbed  my  orchard  this  afternoon, 
and  I  want  you  to  find  them  out  and  make  an 
example  of  them." 

"How  do  you  know  they  were  from  our 
school  ?  I  have  told  you  that  the  Snooks  boys 
are  not." 

"  I'll  tell  you ;  I  was  coming  up  the  lane  and 
I  met  a  dozen  or  more  youngsters,  that  I  know 
belong  to  the  school,  among  them  was  young 
Blogson,  and  that  spry  little  Tommy  Tadmore." 

"A  troublesome  boy,"  said  Mr.  Gadmeter, 
twisting  his  beard.  (Josephus  Gadmeter  wore  a 
ferocious  black  beard,  and  so  thick  a  mustache 


102  TOM  TAD 

that  no  one  had  ever  seen  his  lips.  His  white 
teeth  were  almost  frightfully  visible  behind  the 
dark  fringe  on  his  mouth.)  "  A  troublesome 
boy,  hard  to  manage,  conceited." 

"  Is  he  ?  "  queried  the  Squire,  a  smile  forcing 
its  way  though  the  grimness  of  his  frowning 
face.  "  He  is  an  amusing  little  scamp,  as  quick 
as  a  flash  ;  and  well  bred  too ;  he  was  the  only 
boy  in  the  batch  that  took  off  his  hat  to  me." 

"He  puts  on  a  good  deal  of  politeness,'* 
answered  Gadmeter,  "  but  I  fear  he  is  deceit- 
ful." 

"  Another  one  that  I  knew  was  Judge  Bogus's 
son — Jo,  I  think  his  name  is." 

"  Joseph  Bogus  !  A  nice  boy,  Squire ;  an  ex- 
ceedingly promising  boy.  Manly, — frank, — up- 
right. That  boy  wouldn't  steal  a  blade  of 
grass.  Impossible." 

"  I  don't  say  that  he  did,  or  that  any  of  the 
crowd  did;  but  I  suspect  that  they  knew  all 
about  the  stealing.  I  went  on  to  the  end  of  the 
lane  and  there  I  found  Snooks,  and  gave  him 
something  to  remember  me  by."  Mr.  Gadmeter 
threw  back  his  head  and  a  chuckle  came  from 
the  gap  betwixt  his  white  teeth.  The  Squire 
proceeded :  "  While  I  was  entertaining  Mr. 
Snooks,  five  or  six  smaller  boys  scampered  from 
the  orchard  with  their  hats  full  of  apples." 

"  Ah  I    I  thought  so,"  said  Mr.  Gadmeter. 

"I  asked  Snooks  who  they  were,"  continued 


GADMETER'S  SAGACITY          103 

the  Squire;  "he  said  he  wasn't  sure,  but  he 
thought  one  of  them  was  Tadmore  and  another 
Blogson.  When  I  told  him  that  could  not  be 
so,  for  I  had  seen  those  boys  in  the  lane,  he  said 
he  was  sure  he  knew  one  of  the  thieves,  a  boy 
of  very  reckless  character,  a  young  desperado 
named  Runkle." 

"  I  never  heard  the  name  before,"  said  Gad- 
meter.  "  He  doesn't  belong  to  our  school.  We 
have  no  desperate  characters." 

"Well,  Mr.  Gadmeter,"  said  the  Squire,  rising 
to  go,  "  I  have  given  you  the  clew.  I  wish  you 
would  investigate  the  matter.  Be  a  little  quiet 
about  it,  and  make  some  inquiries.  You  might 
quiz  that  boy  Josy  Bogus." 

"  Just  the  thing !  I  was  about  to  suggest  the 
same  idea.  Trust  me,  Squire  Hoyle,  to  ferret 
out  mischief.  I  know  all  about  the  ways  of 
boys.  They  know  it's  no  use  to  try  to  fool  me." 

The  Squire  took  his  leave,  and  Mr.  Gadmeter 
immediately  set  about  sinking  his  nets  as  he 
termed  it.  A  good  part  of  the  Holy  Sabbath 
Day  was  dedicated  to  "sinking  nets."  One  of 
these  "  nets "  was  cast  around  Master  Joseph 
Bogus,  who,  being  invited  to  call  at  the  Princi- 
pal's house,  made  his  appearance  after  tea. 

"Joey,  step  into  the  library,"  said  Mr.  Gad- 
meter,  and  he  affectionately  patted  that  candid 
model  on  the  head.  "Joey,  I  think  from  the 
present  state  of  the  records,  that  you  stand  a 


104  TOM  TAD 

first-rate  chance  of  taking  the  medal  for  excel- 
lence in  arithmetic." 

"  I'm  working  hard  for  it,  sir." 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  are  :  working  like  a  beaver. 
You  are  on  the  right  track.  You  neither  ask 
help  nor  give  help.  You  are  fitting  yourself  for 
the  duties  of  life,  and,  I  trust,  for  endless  ages 
of  immortality.  Joey,  where  were  you  yester- 
day?" 

Forewarned  is  forearmed.  Joey  was  on  his 
guard.  "I  was  at  home  studying  arithmetic 
most  of  the  day." 

"  "Were  you  out  in  the  afternoon  walking  with 
some  of  the  boys  ?  " 

"I  was  over  at  Blogson's  barn,  where  Tom 
Tad  was  making  a  speech." 

"So  I  understand,"  remarked  Mr.  Gadmeter. 
Joseph  was  wary  and  wily.  He  doubted 
whether  the  professor  "  understood "  so  much 
as  he  "let  on." 

"  We  had  a  spelling-match  after  the  speech ; " 
Joseph  put  forth  this  whopper  to  test  the  ful- 
ness and  accuracy  of  his  honored  Principal's  un- 
derstanding. The  man  swallowed  the  bait. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  had.  Which  of  you  came 
out  best?"  The  Principal  felt  that  he  had 
gained  a  point,  and  was  extremely  anxious  to  get 
another.  He  looked  at  Joseph  with  an  air  of 
paternal  pride,  which  said  as  plain  as  words 
could  say,  "Now,  Joey,  don't  be  modest,  but 


GADMETER'S  SAGACITY  105 

speak  out  and  let  me  share  your  triumph ;  you 
came  out  best."  Joseph  was  a  mind  reader,  as 
well  as  a  consulter  of  keys  and  ponies.  "  I  be- 
lieve, Mr.  Gadmeter,  that  you  know  everything 
and  see  everywhere.  As  you  say,  you  have  eyes 
in  the  back  of  your  head,  and  you  seem  to  look 
through  walls  and  roofs,  and  to  hear  whatever 
we  boys  say  when  we  are  miles  and  miles  away." 
Mr.  Gadmeter  was  flattered. 

"  Well,  well,  well ! "  he  said,  throwing  back 
his  head  in  his  peculiar  manner.  "  I  suppose  I 
do  have  ways  and  means  of  finding  out  what  is 
going  on, — ways  and  means  that  you  boys  have 
no  idea  of.  The  birds  tell  me  many  a  secret.  I 
never  go  out  of  my  way,  Joey,  to  spy  into  the 
conduct  of  my  pupils.  I  trust  them  and  believe 
them,  and  they  trust  and  believe  me,  and  tell  me 
everything." 

"  They  can't  help  it,"  blandly  assented  Joseph 
Bogus ;  "  and  if  they  could,  you  would  find  it 
out  anyhow." 

"  I  think  I  have  the  confidence  of  my  pupils ; 
I  believe  I  have  your  confidence.  But  I  don't 
want  to  embarrass  you  in  any  way,  shape, 
form  or  manner.  "Whatever  you  say  to  me 
here,  in  the  privacy  of  my  own  house,  shall 
be,  as  it  were,  between  you  and  me  and  the  gate- 
post." 

Joseph  felt  in  his  heart,  that  if  he  had  any 
secrets  to  confide,  his  best  course  would  be  to 


106  TOM  TAD 

limit  his  confidence  to  the  gate-post.  But  he 
said  very  candidly,  "  Oh,  of  course." 

"  I  have  a  special  reason  for  wishing  to  learn 
whether  my  information  is  correct  in  regard  to 
what  happened  after  you  had  the  spelling-match  in 
the  barn.  There  are  stories  afloat,  Joseph,  (lies,  no 
doubt)  which  touch  your  character  for  honesty. 
Now  I  advise  you  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  the 
whole  affair.  How  was  it  ?  " 

Joseph  was  no  gudgeon.  He  thought  he  saw 
the  meshes  of  the  net. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"Where  did  you  go  after  you  left  the 
barn?" 

"  "We  went  to  the  woods.  Tom  wanted  to  get 
some  wild  grapes  in  Squire  Hoyle's  woods." 

"Yes.    Goon." 

"  We  didn't  find  the  grapes  on  the  vines,  but 
we  met  Barclay  Snooks  and  his  brother  and  they 
gave  us  grapes." 

"And  then?" 

"  And  then  we  went  across  the  field  and  down 
Squire  Hoyle's  lane,  and  by  his  orchard." 

"By  his  orchard?  Did  any  of  the  boys  go 
into  the  orchard  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  the  others  might 
have  done  after  I  came  away.  I  came  away  and 
left  some  of  the  boys  standing  there." 

"  I  see,  Joseph,  I  see.  It  is  pretty  much  as  I 
supposed.  You  don't  need  to  tell  me  anything 


GADMETER'S  SAGACITY          107 

more.  Tadmore,  you  say,  proposed  to  go  to  the 
woods,  and  there  you  met  the  Snooks  boys.  Yes, 
yes.  Come  and  see  me  again,  Joseph.  Come 
often," 


XYII 

TOM  GETS  A  FLOGGING 

ON  Monday  morning  Mr.  Gadmeter  notified 
Miss  Grace  Belmont  that  he  would  come  to  her 
room  immediately  after  the  opening  of  school,  to 
inquire  into  a  small  matter  of  discipline. 

"You  need  not  call  your  first  class.  I  shall 
perhaps  wish  to  occupy  half  an  hour  or  so  ques- 
tioning the  scholars.  The  case  I  shall  investi- 
gate is  one  which  concerns  the  reputation  of  the 
school." 

"What  is  the  nature  of  it?"  inquired  Miss 
Belmont. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  case  involving  the  honesty  of 
one  or  two  of  the  boys.  We  must  vindicate  the 
character  of  the  school." 

"Would  it  not  be  better  to  investigate  the 
matter  privately  ?  " 

"  No,  the  more  publicly  the  better.  We  must 
show  these  boys  and  girls  just  how  we  stand  on 
morals.  I  believe  in  crowning  virtue  and  crush- 
ing vice." 

The  bell  rang,  and  the  pupils  filed  to  their 
respective  rooms,  Tom  and  Charley  unconscious 
of  the  disturbance  they  had  created  in  the  Prin- 

108 


TOM  GETS  A  FLOGGING          109 

cipal's  mind,  and  scarcely  remembering  the 
events  of  Saturday,  came  in  at  the  door  as  if 
some  rollicking  breeze  had  blown  them  to  school. 
Tom  paused  a  moment  to  lay  an  apple  and  a 
sprig  of  goldenrod  on  the  table, — a  morning 
offering  to  the  divinity  of  the  place.  The  slight 
confusion  caused  by  the  general  seating  had 
scarcely  subsided,  when  Mr.  Gadmeter  stepped 
into  the  room  very  softly  and  walked  to  the 
platform  on  which  the  table  stood.  He  motioned 
Miss  Belmont  to  be  seated,  and  then  opened  a 
small  Bible  which  he  carried  in  his  hand. 

"  We  will  read  for  our  instruction  this  morn- 
ing, a  single  verse  from  the  twentieth  chapter 
of  the  Book  of  Genesis.  It  is  the  fifteenth  verse 
of  the  chapter,  and  is  one  of  the  Ten  Command- 
ments. *  Thou  shalt  not  steal.' ':  The  impress- 
ive manner  in  which  the  Principal  read  these 
four  words  was  dramatic.  The  scholars  were 
startled.  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal"  repeated  Mr. 
Gadmeter  and  closed  the  book. 

Tom  Tadmore  glanced  at  Charley,  who  in  his 
turn  stole  a  furtive  look  at  Joseph  Bogus.  Jo- 
seph Bogus  was  already  deeply  buried  in  arith- 
metic. His  seat-mate,  Wesley  Crooke,  was  ab- 
sent that  morning. 

"  It  is  my  painful  duty,  scholars,  to  interrupt 
your  lessons  long  enough  to  impress  upon  your 
minds  the  paramount  importance  this  school,  and 
we  teachers,  attach  to  the  virtue  of  honesty ;  and, 


110  TOM  TAD 

I  may  add,  the  hatred  and  abhorrence  in  which 
we  hold  dishonesty.  There  are  some  present 
who  will  realize  the  hidden  meaning  of  my 
words.  But  I  do  not  propose  that  my  meaning 
shall  long  remain  hidden  from  any  of  you. 
This  school  exists  to  fit  you  for  the  duties  of  life, 
and  for  the  endless  ages  of  eternity.  Thomas 
Tadmore,  please  step  this  way." 

If  Mr.  Gadmeter's  reading  was  dramatic,  what 
shall  we  say  of  his  speech  and  summons  ?  They 
were  blood-curdling.  You  could  have  heard  a 
fly  whisper.  Tom  heard  his  heart  beat  so  loud 
that  he  was  provoked  at  the  noise  it  made ;  he 
feared  the  boy  next  to  him  would  hear  the 
cowardly  thing  throb.  He  rose  and  came  to  the 
front.  All  eyes  were  upon  him,  except  those  of 
Jo  Bogus,  which  clung  to  the  arithmetic,  page 
64,  "  Discount." 

*'  Thomas." 

"Sir?"  The  way  in  which  Thomas  said 
"  sir  ? "  was  droll  enough  though  not  in  the 
least  impudent.  Tom  couldn't  for  the  life  of 
him  think  of  anything  polite  to  say.  So  he  said 
"sir?" 

"  Don't  be  saucy." 

Tom  had  not  meant  to  be  saucy.  Now  he  felt 
under  obligation  to  be  so.  But  he  choked  the 
feeling  down  and  said, 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

This  phrase  offended  Mr.  Gadmeter  still  more ; 


TOM  GETS  A  FLOGGING  111 

he  thought  he  detected  in  it  a  spirit  of  mocking 
and  contempt  of  court. 

"You  may  have  reason  to  beg  pardon, — my 
pardon,  and  that  of  the  school." 

Tom  stared  at  the  ceiling  and  his  eyes  watered. 
So  did  those  of  Miss  Belmont.  She  picked  up 
the  sprig  of  goldenrod  and  fingered  it  nervously. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  have  some  feeling. 
Your  tears  confess  your  fault.  Are  you  guilty  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  confused  lad  sobbing,  and 
absolutely  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  charge 
harbored  against  him.  "  Yes,  he  pushed  me  out 
of  the  line  and  I " 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,"  in- 
terrupted the  Principal.  "  You  know  well 
enough  that  I  am  referring  to  the  affair  of  Satur- 
day. Didn't  you  steal  some  apples  ?  " 

"  No ! "  said  Tom  in  a  loud  voice,  dashing  the 
tears  from  his  eyes,  and  glancing  around  the 
room  defiantly.  "  Who  says  I  did  ?  He  tells  a 
lie!" 

"Kemember  where  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Gad- 
meter,  showing  signs  of  temper.  "Kemember 
whom  you  are  speaking  to,  and  use  proper  lan- 
guage. Do  you  pretend  to  say  you  know  noth- 
ing about  the  theft  of  last  Saturday,  when  you 
and  several  other  boys  were  in  Squire  Hoyle's 
woods,  and  afterwards  in  his  orchard  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  in  his  orchard.  There  was  a  lot 
of  us  over  there,  but  only  a  few  went  into  the 


112  TOM  TAD 

orchard,  and  most  of  us  came  away.  They  can 
speak  for  themselves." 

"  Didn't  you  touch  any  of  the  apples  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  boys  gave  me  three,  and  I  ate  two 
of  them." 

"  Oh,  you  did,  did  you  ?  They  were  pretty 
good  apples,  weren't  they,  now  ?  " 

Several  of  the  boys  laughed  at  this  humorous 
question  and  Tom  himself  joined  in  the  merri- 
ment, but  in  a  restrained  manner. 

"  They  were  good,  eh !  Thomas  ?  " 

"  They  were  first-rate." 

This  was  not  an  uncivil  answer,  but  to  Mr. 
Gadmeter,  who,  for  some  reason,  had  a  strong 
prejudice  against  Tom,  it  smacked  of  levity  and 
disrespect.  The  gentleman,  forgetting  his  own 
dignity,  scowled  at  the  boy,  and  made  use  of  the 
rather  vulgar  and  trite  rebuke,  "No  more  of 
your  sauce ! "  The  expression  associating  itself 
with  the  accusation  against  Tom,  suggested  a  pun 
and,  his  habit  of  speaking  out  whatever  came 
into  his  fancy,  prevailing  over  discretion,  he  let 
slip  the  words  "apple  sauce."  The  Principal 
heard,  but  restrained  his  wrath,  and  resumed  his 
questioning  with  severe  calmness. 

"  You  say  the  boys  gave  you  three  apples  and 
you  ate  two ;  what  became  of  the  third  ?  " 

No  answer. 

"I  say,  what  became  of  the  third  of  those 
good  apples  ?  "  The  culprit  involuntarily  turned 


TOM  GETS  A  FLOGGING          113 

his  face  towards  Miss  Belmont.  His  eyes  met 
hers ;  then  they  rested  for  a  moment  upon  the 
big  yellow  apple  which  lay  in  full  view  on  the 
table.  The  school  instantly  translated  the  panto- 
mime, and  a  thrill  ran  from  heart  to  heart. 
There  was  an  uneasy  rustling  of  dresses  on  the 
girls'  side  of  the  house. 

"This  is  the  stolen  apple  you  did  not  eat, 
is  it?" 

"  I  did  not  steal  it,  Mr.  Gadmeter." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  A  boy  that  will 
steal  may  speak  a  falsehood.  Besides  you  re- 
ceived the  stolen  fruit,  and  that  is  the  same  as 
stealing.  Who  did  actually  take  the  apples 
from  the  orchard?  Tell  me  the  names  of  the 
boys." 

A  deep  silence. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  their  names  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  I  won't." 

"  You  won't  ?  We  shall  see.  If  you  think  to 
put  your  will  against  mine,  young  man,  we  shall 
see  who  is  the  strongest.  Joseph,  go  to  my  room 
and  bring  my  rattan." 

Joseph  Bogus  complied  with  this  command, 
and  after  handing  the  rattan  to  his  honored  Prin- 
cipal he  sat  down  and  opened  his  arithmetic, 
reading  silently  at  the  top  of  the  page  "Com- 
pound Interest."  Mr.  Gadmeter  took  the  rod  in 
his  hand  and  raised  it  to  strike.  Melissa  Brown, 
a  charming  little  girl  with  a  profusion  of  curls, 


114  TOM  TAD 

put  her  face  in  her  handkerchief  and  began  to 
weep. 

"  "Will  you  tell  me  the  names  of  the  boys  who 
stole  Squire  Hoyle's  apples  ?  " 

The  hardened  criminal  shook  his  head.  A 
blow  fell  upon  his  shoulders !  another !  another  I 
a  shower  of  quick  sharp  blows !  the  criminal 
winced.  Miss  Belmont  stepped  to  the  Principal's 
side  and  touched  his  elbow. 

"Mr.  Gadmeter,  you  are  forgetting  yourself. 
You  are  angry."  This  was  spoken  in  a  very 
earnest  tone,  but  so  low  that  none  but  Tom  and 
the  Principal  could  hear  it. 

"  I  know  what  I  am  about,"  replied  the  excited 
man  roughly.  "  Authority  must  be  maintained. 
Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  allow  a  boy  to 
conquer  me  before  the  whole  school  ?  He  must 
yield."  Schoolmasters  are  but  human.  The 
mildest  soul  has  some  savage  element.  Mr.  Gad- 
meter  was  not  mild,  and  he  had  allowed  the  tiger 
of  his  nature  to  leap  to  his  brain. 

"  I  ask  again  and  for  the  last  time,  will  you 
tell  me  the  names  ?  " 

All  the  stubborn  blood  of  the  boy  cried  No  in 
his  veins.  He  was  of  the  stuff  that  martyrs  are 
made  of.  Such  was  the  lad's  fortitude  that  at 
the  moment  he  took  a  fierce  pride  in  the  pain  he 
bore,  and  his  young  American  courage  steeled 
him  to  think  he  would  rather  die  than  yield. 
The  thwacking  blows  of  the  rattan  fell  merci- 


TOM  GETS  A  FLOGGING  115 

lessly  upon  his  shoulders  and  back.  Tom's  face 
grew  livid.  Grace  Belmont  made  an  effort  to 
snatch  the  rod  from  the  Principal's  hand. 

"Shame!"  she  said,  "this  is  brutal!  The 
punishment  is  cruel  and  unreasonable." 

The  pupils  were  upon  their  feet,  one  and  all, 
and  came  crowding  forward.  Many  were  cry- 
ing. The  boys  clenched  their  fists.  The  purple 
flush  forsook  Tom's  cheeks  and  he  became 
ghastly  pale, — he  reeled  and  caught  at  a  desk  to 
keep  from  falling  to  the  floor. 

Mr.  Gadmeter  suddenly  realized  the  rashness 
of  his  proceeding.  Visions  of  a  lawsuit  rose  in 
his  imagination.  He  recollected  that  Thomas 
Tadmore,  senior,  was  not  a  person  of  mild  temper. 
Conscious  of  defeat,  he  assumed  an  air  of  supreme 
authority,  sternly  commanded  Tom  to  take  his 
seat,  and  himself  left  the  room  and  went  to  his 
private  office  to  reflect  on  his  folly  and  consider 
how  he  might  recover  lost  power  and  self-re- 
spect. 

"Please  all  take  your  seats,"  requested  Miss 
Belmont  in  a  low  tone,  and  the  boys  and  girls 
immediately  obeyed.  A  profound  silence-pre- 
vailed. Tom  staggered  to  his  place  hardly  real- 
izing what  had  happened,  or  where  he  was.  He 
rested  his  forehead  in  his  hands  upon  his  desk. 

"  The  class  in  arithmetic  will  recite." 

A  large  division  of  pupils  came  to  the  recita- 
tion benches,  Joseph  Bogus  at  the  head,  but  the 


116  TOM  TAD 

work  of  the  forenoon  passed  off  like  a  funeral 
service.  At  recess,  Tom  took  his  hat  and  went 
to  the  play-ground  as  usual.  Joseph  Bogus  pru- 
dently stayed  at  his  desk.  The  boys  who  were 
concerned  in  the  doing  of  Saturday  crowded 
around  their  hero,  who  rubbed  his  shoulders,  and 
said  with  a  ghastly  grin,  "  He  fetched  the  red, 
boys,  but  I  didn't  give  you  away,  did  I  ?  " 

Miss  Belmont,  sitting  by  herself  while  the 
boys  and  girls  were  at  play,  did  not  eat  her 
luncheon.  She  took  Tom's  apple  in  her  hand, 
and  the  scene  of  the  morning  came  back  so 
vividly  and  pathetically,  that  her  breast  labored 
and  great  tears  of  pity  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 
Melissa  Brown  came  to  the  open  door  and  looked 
in,  but  spoke  not,  and  soon  went  away,  loving 
Miss  Belmont  more  than  ever.  When  the  school 
assembled  after  recess,  the  teacher's  kind  face 
was  as  serene  as  usual.  And  Tom's  was  osten- 
tatiously cheerful.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem, 
the  boy,  when  he  went  home  that  evening,  said 
not  a  word  about  the  flogging  he  had  received. 
He  was  rather  irritable  and  uncommunicative 
and  went  to  bed  quite  early. 

As  for  the  exemplary  Joseph  Bogus,  he  escaped 
the  rod  of  school  justice,  for  none  of  the  boys 
turned  state's  evidence  against  him.  But  he  did 
not  escape  the  summary  vengeance  of  Sam 
toggle  who  waited  for  him  in  the  public  road, 
that  evening,  and  thrashed  him  with  the  enthusi- 


TOM  GETS  A  FLOGGING  117 

astic  ardor  of  a  rough  boy  who  feels  it  his  duty 
to  vindicate  injured  innocence  and  to  rebuke 
sneaking  hypocrisy. 

Mr.  Gadmeter  was  for  several  days  very  un- 
easy for  fear  of  a  wrathy  visitation  from  Thomas 
Tadmore,  senior,  or  from  Felix  Eldon.  But 
those  gentlemen,  not  hearing  of  Tom's  whipping 
until  a  fortnight  after  it  had  passed  into  local 
history,  reflected  that  the  time  for  retaliation  had 
gone  by,  and  that  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  dig  up 
the  hatchet  which  Tom  had  so  carefully  buried. 
However,  they  did  not  think  any  better  of  Jo- 
sephus  Gadmeter,  or  of  his  method  of  fitting 
boys  for  the  duties  of  life. 


XVIII 

BARCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU 

THROUGH  the  generosity  of  Dr.  Eldon,  the 
Koggle  family  was  enabled  to  abandon  the  shanty- 
boat  for  more  commodious  quarters,  in  a  frame 
house  situated  very  near  the  Ohio  River, — a 
property  belonging  to  Mr.  Tadmore.  Grand- 
father Barton  protested  against  the  removal,  but 
his  objections  were  overruled. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  a  fine 
summer  day,  a  young  man  carrying  in  his  hand 
a  slim,  mottled  cane,  knocked  on  the  door  of  the 
Noggle  house.  Two  overgrown  girls  standing 
on  the  river's  margin,  waved  their  handkerchiefs 
towards  the  young  man,  who  had  parted  company 
with  them  a  few  minutes  before,  and  was  soon  to 
rejoin  them. 

The  elder  of  the  two  spoke  to  the  younger 
very  snappishly : 

"You  needn't  do  everything  I  do,  Each. 
Can't  I  wave  my  handkercher  without  your 
doing  the  same  thing  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  whatever  I've  a  mind  to,  and  not  ask 
you,"  retorted  the  other.  "You  are  not  my 
mistress,  Beck  McStaver.  I've  got  as  good  a 

118 


BAKCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU      119 

right  to  wave  my  handkercher  as  you  have. 
He's  not  your  company  any  more  than  mine. 
He  asked  us  both  to  take  a  skift-ride  with  him, 
and  he  asked  me  first." 

"  Asked  you  first !  You  know  he  would  never 
ask  you  at  all,  if  you  was  not  my  sister.  If  you 
think  Barclay  cares  particularly  for  you,  you  are 
mistaken.  You  shouldn't  be  forward;  it  don't 
look  well  in  a  person  of  your  age." 

"  I  hear  you  but  I  don't  fear  you,"  answered 
Miss  Rachel.  "  I  know  I'm  not  as  old  as  you, 
nor  as  ugly ;  and  you  ain't  as  young  as  me." 

"  Nor  so  pretty,  why  didn't  you  say,  you  im- 
pudent fright  ?  Yes,  you  are  a  beauty !  You 
are  a  sweet-tempered  creature — sweet  as  lemon 
juice.  Don't  make  mouths  at  me !  I'd  smack 
your  face  if  we  were  at  home." 

"You  would,  would  you?  You  would? 
Temper !  My !  Everybody  knows  that  you  are 
the  worst  dispositioned  person  in  Forest  Glen. 
Shut  up  ?  I  won't  shut  up.  I  see  he's  coming 
back ;  but  what  do  I  care  if  he  does  hear.  I'm 
not  ashamed  of  my  words.  I'm  ashamed  of 
you." 

Though  Miss  Rachel  continued  to  berate  her 
angry  sister,  she  lowered  her  voice  as  the  young 
man  approached  accompanied  by  Peter  Koggle. 

Barclay's  colloquy  with  the  heads  of  the  Nog- 
gle  house  had  been  peculiar.  In  answer  to  his 
rap,  Mandy  had  opened  the  door. 


120  TOM  TAD 

"  Where's  Sam  ?  " 

"  Workin'  in  the  board-yard." 

"  Is  your  gran'daddy  home  ?  " 

«  He's  a-helpin' Sam." 

' Is  Pete  about?" 

"Pap's  a-smokin'  his  pipe." 

"  Tell  him  I  want  him." 

Mandy  disappeared,  like  a  slide  in  a  dissolving 
view.  Mrs.  Noggle  came  to  the  door  and  con- 
fronted the  imperious  Snooks.  She  had  been 
drinking  and  her  eyes  glared  ominously.  Bar- 
clay stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  and  made  a  half 
civil  bow. 

"  Is  Pete  about  the  house,  Mrs.  Koggle  ?  " 

"Mister  Noggle  is  at  home.  Who  is  it  that 
wants  him  ?  " 

"  Tell  him  there  is  a  gentleman  out  here,"  re- 
plied Barclay. 

"Where  is  the  gentleman?"  Mrs.  ISToggle 
stepped  to  the  door-sill  and  looked  around. 
"What  huzzies  are  them  yonder?"  she  con- 
tinued, pointing  to  the  pair  on  the  river-bank. 

"  You  ought  to  know  them,"  returned  Barclay, 
leering  maliciously.  "  They  are  Each  and  Beck 
McStaver." 

Mrs.  Noggle's  dignity  was  diminished.  The 
words,  "  You  ought  to  know  them,"  was  a  home 
thrust.  On  rare  occasions  Beck  presided  at  the 
bar  of  her  father's  saloon. 

"Yes,  I  know  them,"  said  Mrs.  Noggle,  step- 


BAKCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU   121 

ping  aside  to  make  room  for  the  inefficient  hus- 
band who  had  come  down-stairs,  having  been 
summoned  by  Mandy.  "  I  know  them,  and  the 
whole  town  knows  them." 

Barclay  poked  the  ground  with  his  cane. 
"  Say,  Pete,  I  want  your  skif t  fer  about  an  hour. 
"What'll  you  charge  me  fer  it  jist  to  row  over  to 
Kentucky  and  back  with  a  couple  of  ladies  ?  " 

"  Well,"  answered  Peter,  scratching  the  back 
of  his  left  hand  with  the  stem  of  his  pipe  held  in 
his  right.  "Well,  some  asks  more  and  some 
asks  less.  I  reckon  we  shan't  dispute  if  you're 
reasonable  and  I'm  reasonable,  and  we  both 
come  to  a  sort  of  a  fair  understanding.  Where 
do  you  mean  to  go  to  ?  " 

"Jest  over  to  Kentucky.  Pete,  I've  got 
plenty  of  tin.  You  needn't  be  uneasy  about 
that.  Jist  name  yer  price  and  let's  have  the 
boat." 

"Well,  ya-as.  Maybe,  perhaps  somebody  or 
nother  might  want  the  boat, — or  maybe  not — like 
as  anyway ;  there's  no  telling.  Sam  mightn't  like 
it. — Well,  never  mind.  You  say  you'll  be  back 
— in  an  hour ;  that  is,  we  understand  there  is  an 
agreement  to  that  effect  ?  " 

"I  am  willin'  to  put  it  down  in  black  and 
white,"  affirmed  Barclay,  as  the  two  contracting 
parties  arrived  at  the  river-bank.  "  This  is  Mr. 
Noggle,  ladies.  Mr.  Peter  Noggle,  the  owner  of 
this  here  boat,  which  he  agrees  to  let  me  have 


122  TOM  TAD 

for  half  a  dollar.  That's  what  you  offered, 
wasn't  it,  Pete  ?  " 

"  Well — ya-as — that's  about  as  nigh  as  you  can 
cipher  it  down,  a  half  dollar  or  words  to  that 
effect,  as  the  lawyers  say."  Peter  laughed  in  a 
subdued  way. 

The  girls  got  into  the  skiff  and  Barclay  stepped 
in  after  them  and  took  the  oars. 

"  We'll  settle  up  when  I  come  back,  and  I'm 
willin'  to  pay  a  quarter  fer  every  minute  I'm  out 
over  time.  Pete,  give  her  a  shove,  will  you,  for 
these  big  gals  is  hefty." 

Peter  thought  this  speech  of  Barclay's  almost 
as  witty  as  his  own  concerning  the  lawyers. 
The  boat  was  shoved  from  the  beach  and  Bar- 
clay rowed  away,  while  Peter,  taking  a  piece  of 
keel  from  his  vest  pocket,  started  for  home,  his 
mind  perplexed  by  an  arithmetical  calculation. 
He  picked  up  a  shingle  which  lay  in  his  path,  and 
upon  this  he  scrawled  a  few  uncouth  marks, 
murmuring  to  himself,  "A  nought's  a  nought, 
and  a  figger  is  a  figger.  I  reckon  I'll  get 
the  money, — or  may  be  not,  there's  no  tell- 
ing." 

The  gallant  Barclay  headed  the  boat  up  stream 
and  pulled  vigorously  keeping  near  the  shore. 
Then  he  rested  his  oars  and  allowed  the  craft  to 
drift,  while  he  gave  his  whole  attention  to  enter- 
taining his  amiable  companions.  The  sisters  had 
exchanged  their  late  sour  aspect  and  crabbed 


BARCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU      123 

tone  for  a  demeanor,  sweet  as  rose-leaves,  and 
voices  gentle  as  the  coo  of  a  dove. 

"  "What  a  sniptious  ring  that  is  on  your  little 
finger,  Barclay,"  began  Rachel,  smirking  af- 
fectedly. "  May  I  look  at  it  ?  " 

"This  is  a  fine  ring,"  admitted  the  wearer, 
frankly.  "  And  here's  a  solid  chain  to  match  it. 
I  hadn't  really  ought  to  be  wearin'  this  chain 
around  every  wheres.  It's  a  temptation  to  robbers." 

"  Bless  your  dear  soul,  Mr.  Snooks,  I  wouldn't 
steal  your  julery,  do  you  think  I  would?" 
archly  questioned  Rebecca,  tapping  Barclay's 
shoulder  with  her  fan.  Barclay  grinned  and 
toyed  with  his  gaudy  chain.  Rachel  gazed 
demurely  into  the  water  and  murmured  iron- 
ically, "  No  ;  Becky  don't  want  to  steal  yer  ring ; 
she  wants  to  steal  something  more  precious," 
and  Rachel  put  her  hand  upon  her  heart. 

"  What  does  she  want  to  steal  ?  "  asked  Bar- 
clay, ogling  the  elder  sister  and  steadying  the 
boat  by  a  dip  of  the  left  oar.  "What  does 
Becky  want  to  get  away  with  ?  " 

"I  don't  want  to  steal  nothing  or  nobody. 
I'm  not  like  Rach.  I  don't  hold  out  no  decep- 
tions to  no  men,  Mr.  Snooks.  I'm  always  the 
same  and  jest  as  you  see  me  settin'  here  now." 

Barclay  surveyed  the  demure  creature  with 
looks  of  approval ;  he  also  cast  an  encouraging 
glance  at  Rachel ;  and  shifted  the  topic  by  again 
calling  attention  to  his  chain. 


124  TOM  TAD 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Rachel. 

"  I've  jist  sent  my  watch  to  the  jewler's  to 
be  fixed  up.  It  takes  a  fortune  to  keep  one  of 
them  French  watches  in  order." 

Rebecca  leaned  forward  with  a  languishing 
air.  "  You  spend  too  much  on  such  things,  Mr. 
Snooks." 

"  Wot's  money  fer  but  to  be  laid  out  ?  I've 
got  plenty  of  money." 

"You  will  be  so  proud,  by  and  by,  Barclay, 
that  you  won't  speak  to  poor  folk  like  us,"  said 
Rebecca. 

"'Tain't  boodle,  nor  fine  clothes  that  I  keer 
fer,  Beck,  it's  good  looks,"  said  Barclay,  with  a 
devouring  stare  into  Rebecca's  face.  Rachel 
withdrew  her  pensive  gaze  from  the  water,  and 
glanced  contemptuously  at  her  sister. 

"  Good  looks ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  What's  your 
idea  of  good  looks  ?  " 

"  I've  seed  a  good  many  handsome  women  in 
my  day.  I  was  invited  to  that  reception  or 
wot'er  you  call  it,  up  at  Tadmores',  and  those 
was  fine  women  there,  gals,  you  bet." 

"Was  they  as  pretty  as  us?"  asked  Rachel, 
pouting  winsomely. 

"  There's  different  styles  of  women,  as  there  is 
of  dogs,  and  hosses,  and  guns.  Some  likes  one 
style  best  and  some  likes  another.  Most  of  the 
society  fellers  would  say  Hannah  Tadmore  is  the 
handsomest  gal.  I  always  like  to  call  on  Hannah 


BAKCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU      125 

Tadmore.  I  most  generally  spend  my  Sundays 
up  at  Tadmores'  smokin'  with  the  men  and 
chattin'  with  the  women.  By  jingo,  I  must  have 
a  smoke  now.  You  don't  object  to  tobaccer,  do 
you,  gals  ?  " 

Kebecca  said,  no  indeed,  she  didn't,  and 
Kachel  simpered  that  there  was  nothing  so  ex- 
tremely delightful  to  her  as  the  smell  of  a  good 
cigar. 

"  You  bet  I  don't  use  no  other  kind,"  ejaculated 
Barclay,  and  he  forthwith  lit  a  "  Cuban  Beauty," 
and,  puffing  voluminously,  he  grappled  the  oars 
and  pulled  steadily  until  the  boat  was  safely 
brought  to  Kentucky  soil.  A  half  hour  was 
spent  idling  on  the  shore,  where  Barclay  gath- 
ered for  each  of  his  blooming  partners  a  flaunt- 
ing bunch  of  wild  sunflowers.  Having  lavished 
these  floral  tributes,  Barclay  struck  his  hand 
upon  his  thigh,  exclaiming,  "  I  swan !  I  done 
clean  forgot  a  date  I  had  with  Jedge  Bogus,  and 
must  go  back.  Business  is  business,  you  know, 
gals,  and  I'd  ruther  drown  myself  than  break 
my  word  with  the  Jedge !  But  if  you  say  shake 
him  he'll  have  to  wait.  If  he  don't  like  it  he  kin 
lump  it ! " 

"  Don't  neglect  your  business  on  our  account, 
Barclay.  Business  first  and  pleasure  afterwards, 
as  pa  always  says." 

"  It's  mighty  tough  on  a  man  to  give  up  the 
pleasure  I'm  having  with  you  two,  fer  any  sort 


126  TOM  TAD 

of  business.  But  if  you  say  so  we'll  start 
back." 

Barclay,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  landed  his 
buxom  passengers  at  a  point  below  that  at  which 
they  had  embarked  and  much  nearer  their  own 
home.  The  sisters  were  flattered  by  this  ap- 
parent considerateness.  Having  assisted  the  girls 
out  of  the  skiff,  the  prodigal  youth  announced 
that  he  intended  to  astonish  Peter  Noggle  by  pay- 
ing him  double  the  amount  promised.  "  I've  had 
a  buncome  good  time,  and  I'm  willin'  to  pay  fer 
it,  like  a  prince ! "  said  he,  thrusting  his  hand 
deep  into  his  pocket.  Then,  feeling  successively 
in  his  other  pockets,  he  declared,  with  looks  of 
consternation,  that  he  had  lost  his  purse ;  that  he 
must  have  come  away  from  home  without  it,  or  else 
have  dropped  it  in  the  river  by  accident.  "  It's 
gone !  That's  sure,  and  I  don't  know  how  the 
thunder  I'll  pay  Noggle.  I  do  hate  to  disappoint 
a  poor  man.  Never  mind,  I'll  give  him  this  chain. 
It  cost  me  only  fifteen  dollars  wholesale,  and  I've 
got  a  lady's  chain  wuth  twice  as  much,  that  I 
kin  wear." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Snooks,"  cried  both  the  girls  in  a 
breath.  "Don't  pawn  your  chain.  "We  can 
lend  you  the  money." 

Barclay  demurred  and  shook  his  head. 

"Here  is  a  fix  for  a  Snooks.  Wot'll  you 
take  me  fer?  I  could  crawl  through  a 
gimlet  hole.  Dang  it  all!  I'll  have  to  ex- 


BAKCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU      127 

plain  to  sich  poor  white  trash  as  Pete  Nog- 
gle." 

"No!"  insisted  Kachel,  "PU  be  right  mad  at 
you  if  you  don't  let  me  lend  you  the  money." 

So  saying,  she  took  a  clasp  purse  from  her 
pocket,  and  opening  it,  picked  out  several  dimes. 
"  How  much  will  you  need  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  I  meant  to  give  the  poor  chap  a  dollar ; 
but  I  only  promised  a  half.  If  you  kin  lend  me 
a  half  a  dollar,  it  will  be  all  right,  and  I'll  send 
it  back  to  you  by  Sineca,  to-morrow  or  this  even- 
ing." 

"  Here,"  said  Kebecca  eagerly,  taking  the  re- 
quired sum  from  her  purse,  "let  me  give  it  to 
you." 

Each  damsel  eagerly  held  out  an  offering  of 
Federal  money,  five  dimes  in  Kachel's  fingers,  a 
half  dollar  in  .Rebecca's.  Barclay  smiled  be- 
nignantly  on  both,  and  his  itching  palm  received 
the  double  tribute  of  shining  silver. 

"  You  women  must  have  your  way ;  I  can't 
take  from  one  and  insult  t'other.  Good-bye,  gals. 
You're  an  almighty  elegant  couple  of  ladies,  and 
I'm  proud  of  you." 

"  Good-bye ! "  said  Rachel,  in  her  softest  tone 
and  with  her  most  winning  smile.  "  If  you  want 
to  part  with  that  lady's  chain  you  might  give  it 
to— Beck." 

"  Or  to  Each  ?  "  chimed  the  other  sister  inter- 
rogatively. 


128  TOM  TAD 

"By  gum,  you'll  have  to  cut  it  in  two,"  said 
Barclay,  throwing  a  kiss  before  he  stepped  into 
the  skiff ;  and,  chuckling  to  himself,  he  pushed 
off  from  the  gravelly  shore. 

"  You  hypocritical  minx !  "  sneered  Kebecca. 

"  You  old  catamount ! "  retorted  Kachel. 
After  which  sisterly  exchange  of  compliments 
the  lovely  pair  walked  home  to  the  People's 
Saloon. 

Barclay  reached  the  Noggle  coast  and  fastened 
the  hired  boat  to  a  ring  provided  for  its  chain. 
He  thought  best  not  to  disturb  any  of  the  family, 
and  after  casting  a  cautious  glance  around,  he 
hastened  along  the  river-bank  until  he  had  passed 
a  clump  of  willows  which  hid  his  retreating  form 
from  view.  Then  he  slackened  his  pace,  and 
drawing  from  his  pocket  a  leathern  purse,  he 
dropped  into  its  depths  five  dimes  and  a  half 
dollar  piece. 

As  he  returned  the  purse  to  his  pocket,  Barclay 
saw  Squinty  Runkle  squatting  on  the  ground 
heaping  up  a  pile  of  sand.  "With  cat-like  stealth 
Snooks  advanced  exulting  to  within  a  few  feet 
of  his  unsuspecting  prey.  "  Wow  !  "  exclaimed 
he,  seizing  the  boy  by  the  shoulders  from  behind. 
"  You  are  just  the  coon  I'm  after.  My  gang  is 
going  in  swimmin'  this  evenin'  after  sundown, 
here  above  the  willows,  and  I  want  you  to  watch 
my  clothes." 

"  Leave  me  be ! "  screamed  Squinty. 


BAKCLAY  PLAYS  THE  BEAU   129 

"  I'll  cut  out  your  tongue !  You  are  to  watch 
my  clothes  !  Sineca  will  be  here,  and  Mike  and 
five  or  six  other  fellers.  Will  you  be  here? 
Hey?" 

Squinty  looked  timorously  to  the  right  and  to 
the  left,  then  darted  away  to  escape  his  persecu- 
tor ;  but  his  foot  slipped  and  down  he  fell. 

"  Is  that  your  little  game  ? "  said  Barclay, 
grasping  the  trembling  child  by  the  wrists, — one 
slim  wrist  in  each  of  his  strong,  rough  hands ; 
and  slowly  he  twisted  his  victim's  arms  outwards 
and  backwards.  This  brought  Squinty  to  his 
knees  and  caused  him  to  writhe  until  his  face 
was  almost  to  the  ground. 

"Will  you  come?  Hey,  will  you  come?" 
snarled  Barclay. 

Squinty  cowered  and  his  breast  shook  with 
sobs. 

"  Le'  me  loose,  Barclay — please,  le'  me  go." 

"  Promise  then,  or  I  twist  'em  off.  Will  you 
come  ?  Promise !  " 

"  Yes  ;  I'll  come.     Oh,  Barclay ! " 

"Git  up  then  and  light  out.  Don't  tell  no- 
body what  I  done  to  you,  or  I'll  choke  the 
sneakin'  breath  out  of  you.  Come  at  sundown. 
D'ye  hear  ?  " 

Yes,  Squinty  heard.  Barclay  frowned  and 
started  away.  Squinty  sat  down  on  the  sand 
and  cried  bitterly. 


SQUINTY'S  VENGEANCE 

ON  the  afternoon  chosen  by  Barclay  Snooks 
for  a  gay  hour  of  dalliance  with  the  coquettish 
McStaver  sisters,  Tom  Tad  was  moved  by  a 
democratic,  social  impulse,  to  seek  Sam  Noggle 
and  ask  him  to  go  in  swimming.  Tom  hurried 
down  to  his  humble  friend's  house,  and  found  all 
the  folks  at  home,  sitting  on  the  porch  to  enjoy 
the  river  breeze. 

"  Take  a  chair,"  sang  out  Sam  to  the  welcome 
visitor  from  the  hilltop.  There  was  a  general 
movement  of  kindly  recognition,  and  such  a  hos- 
pitable offering  of  chairs  and  benches  that  Tom 
in  embarrassment  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a 
convenient  step. 

"I'd  just  as  soon  sit  here,"  he  said,  with 
natural  politeness.  "  How  are  you  all  ?  " 

"  Middlin',"  answered  Peter,  speaking  for  the 
family.  "  Middlin',  none  of  us  sick,  and  none  of 
us  well,  except  Sam.  Mandy  is  poorly, — mother 
is  poorly, — I  am  poorly-like,  myself.  How's  your 
folks?" 

"  We  are  all  well,  thank  you ;  how  do  you  all 

130 


SQUINTY'S  VENGEANCE          131 

do?"  responded  Tom,  forgetting  that  he  had 
made  that  inquiry  before. 

"  Only  just  middlin'.  I've  had  a  tetch  of  malaria. 
Is  your  mother  and  sister  in  their  usual  health  ?  " 

Tom  began  to  feel  afraid  he  would  never  get 
through  the  tangle  of  how-do-you-do  salutations 
with  Mr.  Noggle,  so  he  made  an  abrupt  change 
to  another  topic,  by  announcing  that  it  was  hot, 
wasn't  it  ? 

"  It  is,"  replied  Peter,  impressively,  "  it  is  hot 
weather.  We've  had  a  long  dry  spell.  I  reckon 
maybe  it  will  rain  by  and  by,  or  maybe  not ;  I 
can't  say ;  there's  no  telling.  "We've  had  a  dry 
summer,  as  you  say." 

Tom  feared  that  the  weather,  as  Mr.  Noggle 
discussed  it,  was  tangling  him  up  worse  than  the 
health  question.  His  only  rescue  was  to  cut 
loose  from  Peter,  and  address  his  conversation  to 
somebody  else.  "  The  river  is  awful  low,"  said 
he,  speaking  this  time  to  Grandfather  Barton, 
who  was  seated  beside  Mrs.  Noggle  upon  an  old 
sofa  upholstered  with  haircloth. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  It's  a  wonder- 
ful river,  this  Ohio, — in  August  a  mere  creek,  in 
April  a  small  ocean.  A  marvelous  stream.  I 
have  lived  on  its  waters  or  its  shores  for  more 
than  eighty-five  year,  and  I  have  seen  strange 
things  in  my  time." 

"Sam  says  you've  seen  lots  of  wild  Indians, 
Mr.  Barton." 


132  TOM  TAD 

"  Indians  ?  Oh,  yes.  I  was  in  the  Black  Hawk 
"War  with  Lincoln  in  thirty-two.  I  remember 
something  about  the  "War  of  1812,  but  I  was  too 
young  to  take  part  in  that.  I  saw  General  La- 
fayette in  twenty-six.  I  helped  row  his  boat 
across  the  river  from  Covington  to  Cincinnati.  I 
often  saw  old  Tippecanoe.  He  lived  at  North 
Bend,  and  used  to  pass  up  and  down  on  the  boats. 
You  remember  seeing  him,  Nelly,  don't  you,  in 
thirty-nine  or  forty,  or  along  there,  when  he  was 
running  for  President  ?  " 

On  hearing  the  old  man  address  Mrs.  Noggle 
by  the  familiar  name  Nelly,  Tom's  feelings  were 
strangely  stirred. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  I  recollect  you  took  me  to  a 
mass-meeting  in  a  woods,  where  Harrison  was 
making  a  speech.  You  held  me  up  so  that  I 
could  see  over  the  heads  of  the  people.  I  must 
have  been  nine  or  ten  years  old,  then." 

"At  least  that.  And  a  handsome  girl  you 
were.  Sam  looks  something  like  you  did  then, 
especially  about  the  eyes,  but  not  a  hundredth 
part  so  handsome." 

Tom  stole  a  glance  at  the  haggard  features  of 
Mrs.  Noggle,  and  wondered  how  beauty  could 
ever  have  had  its  dwelling  there. 

"  They  tell  me  that  Sam  looks  like  me,"  she 
said,  with  complacency,  and  made  a  feeble  at- 
tempt to  adjust  the  fragment  of  a  comb  in  her 
back  hair. 


SQUINTY'S  VENGEANCE          133 

"  That's  so,"  continued  her  father.  "  Sam  is 
a  Barton ;  but  Mandy  is  a  Noggle,  out  and  out. 
She  is  a  picture  of  you,  Peter.  But  let  me  tell 
you,  Sam,  your  mother  was  the  finest  girl  in 
Kentucky." 

The  old  man  paused  and  gazed  meditatively  at 
the  hills  and  the  river  and  the  sky.  He  was  lost 
in  the  past.  "  Seems  like  a  dream  when  I  think 
of  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  along  this 
river  since  I  was  a  boy." 

Tom  saw  the  old  man  reach  out  a  wrinkled 
hand  and  gently  stroke  the  gray  hair  of  his 
daughter.  Wash  Barton  still  saw  in  her  the 
beauty  of  her  girlhood.  "  Like  a  dream  ;  like  a 
dream,  my  dear,  poor  girl!  poor  thing!  my 
handsome  Nelly ! " 

Sam  broke  in  upon  his  grandfather's  senti- 
mental reverie,  by  the  abrupt  question,  "  Do  you 
wish  you  was  a  boy,  gran'dad  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'd  like  to  be  a  boy  again." 

"  Then  come  with  us  and  go  in  swimmin'," 
said  Tom.  u  I  came  down  to  ask  Sam  to  go  in 
with  me." 

All  laughed  at  Tom's  free  and  easy  manner  of 
joking,  and  soon  afterwards  the  two  lads  were 
on  their  way  to  a  favorite  bathing  place  near  a 
willow  copse  which  fringed  the  Ohio,  half  a  mile 
above  Forest  Glen.  On  approaching  this  famil- 
iar locality,  they  came  upon  Squinty  Kunkle 
seated  exactly  where  Barclay  Snooks  had  left 


134  TOM  TAD 

him,  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  sun,  upon  the  glar- 
ing sand.  He  was  nursing  the  wrist  of  his  left 
arm  against  his  breast,  pressing  and  rubbing  the 
joint  with  his  right  hand.  His  eyes  were  red  and 
swollen,  his  face  was  stained  with  dirt  and  tears. 

"  "What's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Sam. 

"  Nothin',"  sobbed  Squinty.  Sam  bent  down 
and  took  hold  of  the  hurt  member. 

"Ouch!" 

"  What  ails  it  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Tell  us,"  urged  Sam.  "  Has  anybody  been 
bullyraggin'  you  ?  We'll  lick  'em  for  you, — me 
and  Tom.  Your  wrist  is  swelled  awful.  Come 
back  to  the  house  and  mother  will  put  liniment 
on  it." 

"Or  arnica,"  suggested  Tom,  "or  camphire. 
Who  done  it  ?  " 

The  boys  lifted  Squinty  to  his  feet  and  marched 
him  off  between  them.  Arrived  at  the  Noggle 
house,  the  trio  found  Dr.  Eldon  there  on  a  philan- 
thropic errand.  Squinty  expressed  his  emotion 
in  the  one  powerful  word  of  his  vocabulary. 

While  the  doctor  examined  the  strained  wrist, 
he  persuaded  poor  Squinty  to  tell  all  about  Bar- 
clay's conduct. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  had  gone,  Sam  and  Tom, 
taking  Squinty  in  charge,  conveyed  him  to  the 
willow  copse,  and,  in  secret  conclave,  opened  to 
his  excited  mind  the  details  of  a  dark  and  des- 
perate plot  in  the  execution  of  which  the  claims 


SQUINTY'S  VENGEANCE  135 

of  justice  would  be  satisfied  and  the  trodden 
worm  avenged.  Squinty,  listening  with  open- 
mouthed  wonder  and  dread  apprehension,  was 
mutely  pledged  to  act  some  heroic  part  in  a 
glorious  conspiracy. 

The  long  summer  day  drew  to  a  close,  the 
round  red  sun  went  down  behind  the  hills,  and 
twilight  brooded  over  the  valley  of  the  Ohio. 
Barclay  and  his  "  gang  "  kept  their  appointment, 
assembling  near  the  thicket  of  willow  bushes. 
It  happened  that  Charley  Blogson  had  taken  a 
notion  to  go  in,  that  night;  and,  by  an  odd  co- 
incidence, Tom  Tad  and  Sam  Noggle  chanced  to 
come  upon  the  scene. 

"  Hello,  Barclay !  is  that  you  ?  "  shouted  Tom. 
"  I  didn't  know  you  at  first ;  took  you  for  Judge 
Bogus,  you  look  so  tall  and  serious.  How-dy-do, 
Cuff, — hay  Alic,  ain't  seen  you  for  a  coon's  age. 
Who  all's  goin'  in  ?  The  water's  fine." 

Barclay  looked  about  him  as  if  counting  his 
followers. 

"Has  anybody  seed  Squinty  Eunkle  any- 
wheres about  ?  " 

"  He  can't  come ! "  answered  Sam.  "  He  hurt 
his  arm.  He  was  at  our  house  near  about  dead. 
Dr.  Eldon  set  his  wrist." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  cried  Tom.  "  How  did  he  hurt 
himself?" 

"  Dun  know,"  said  Sam,  "  it's  hard  to  get  any- 
thing out  of  Squinty." 


136  TOM  TAD 

"Poor  little  feller,"  drawled  Barclay.  "I'm 
goshdurned  sorry  fer  him.  Le's  go  in,  boys. 
Sineca,  somebody  ought  to  stay  here  and  watch 
our  duds.  You  stand  guard — you  and  Cuff." 

For  once  Seneca's  soul  rose  in  revolt.  "  No  I 
won't,  durned  if  I  do." 

"  Oh,  you  won't  ?  All  right,  bub.  You  and 
me  will  have  a  little  fun  on  our  way  home." 

The  youngsters  laughed  and  jeered,  but 
whether  at  Barclay's  expense  or  at  that  of  his 
brother,  was  doubtful. 

Every  one  of  the  boys  was  eager  to  be  in  the 
tempting  element.  Tom  and  Sam  were  among 
the  first  to  strip  and  plunge.  Barclay  undressed 
with  the  deliberation  proper  to  his  dignity. 
Softly  whistling  in  an  absent  way,  he  divested 
himself  of  coat,  vest  and  pantaloons,  carefully 
folding  these  articles  and  placing  them  in  a  pile 
under  a  projecting  willow-branch.  On  the  top 
of  the  pile  he  put  his  new  hat,  and  across  the  hat 
he  laid  his  varnished  cane.  Having  completed 
this  prudent  arrangement,  the  great  man  waded 
into  the  tepid  water  and  was  soon  plunging  and 
splashing  among  the  smaller  swimmers. 

The  lusty  fellows  luxuriate  in  the  sport !  They 
dive,  they  float,  they  tread  water,  they  swim  dog- 
fashion,  Indian-fashion,  sailor-fashion,  they  duck 
one  another,  they  shout,  they  sing.  The  climax 
of  delight  is  reached  when  the  steamer  Tacoma 
plows  up  stream,  churning  the  river  with  her 


SQUINTY'S  VENGEANCE  137 

wheel,  and  the  long  waves  from  the  prow  roll  to 
the  shore  tossing  and  breaking  over  the  naked 
lads.  Oblivious  to  everything  save  the  joyous 
excitement  of  bathing,  the  boys  ride  the  billows 
raised  by  the  passing  boat. 

But  the  winking  stars  see  more  than  the  frolic 
of  boys  in  the  river.  They  see  the  willows  bend 
and  shake  though  no  wind  is  blowing.  What 
night-prowling,  furtive  animal  creeps  out  from 
hiding  in  the  thick  bushes,  and  skips  fleetly  along 
the  river-bank  until  he  reaches  a  low  bluff  at  the 
base  of  which  the  current  runs  swift  and  deep  ? 
It  is  Squinty  Kunkle.  He  is  possessed  of  a  mys- 
terious bundle  to  which,  with  cheerful  alacrity, 
he  adds  a  good-sized  boulder,  tying  the  package 
with  a  long  piece  of  twine.  These  preparations 
completed  to  his  satisfaction,  the  miscreant  drops 
the  bundle  into  the  depths  of  the  gliding  current. 
The  mischievous  stars  and  the  conniving  moon 
aid  and  abet  the  felony,  silently  smiling  their 
approval. 

Squinty's  countenance  wreathes  and  wrinkles 
with  unwonted  lines  of  triumph,  and  his  serious 
mouth  twists  itself  into  a  happy  grin.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  young  life  has  he  tasted  the 
sweet  of  personal  retaliation.  "  Gosh,"  he  whis- 
pers, then,  flitting  away  like  a  shadow,  he  is  lost 
in  the  silence  of  the  night. 

Barclay,  disdaining  the  foolish  pranks  and 
porpoise  play  of  his  juniors,  thought  it  in  keep- 


138  TOM  TAD 

ing  with  his  lofty  character,  to  come  out  of  the 
water  alone  and  in  advance  of  the  rest.  Solitary, 
on  the  yellow  sands,  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  he 
stood  awhile,  in  naked  calmness,  a  lanky  Apollo. 
Ere  long  he  cast  his  eyes  towards  the  spot  upon 
which  his  wearing  apparel  had  been  carefully 
deposited.  Not  a  rag  of  his  clothing  was  to  be 
seen  under  the  bush  or  elsewhere.  Barclay  was 
panic-stricken. 

"  "Who's  been  monkeyin'  with  my  things  ?  "  he 
bawled.  The  river  urchins  paused  from  their 
noisy  sport  to  harken. 

"  Say !  where's  my  clothes  at  ?  " 

Sam  Noggle  answered  for  the  crowd :  "  How 
should  we  know  ?  You  were  the  last  feller  to 
come  in  and  the  first  to  go  out.  Nobody  seen 
your  duds.  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

The  swimmers  came  splashing,  pell-mell,  to 
the  beach,  every  one  anxious  to  secure  his  own 
shirt  and  trousers.  "With  eager  swiftness  they 
donned  their  few  and  simple  garments,  rejoicing 
that  they  had  escaped  Barclay's  catastrophe. 
The  chieftain's  authority  over  them  had  disap- 
peared with  his  vestments.  Friend  and  foe  alike 
derided  him.  Cuff  Chuck,  his  lowest  hench- 
man, rolled  on  the  sand  in  a  fit  of  convulsive 
glee. 

"  "Which  way,  Barclay  ?  "  quizzed  Tom.  "  Are 
you  going  to  Judge  Bogus's  lawn  party  ?  " 

"  Say,   Snooks,"  hallooed    Sam.     "  Better  go 


KKIKNI)    AM)    KOK    AI.IKK    DKKIDKI)    HIM. 


SQUINTY'S  VENGEANCE  139 

home  by  way  of  McStaver's  and  borry  Mike's 
apron ! " 

"Here's  your  cane,  Barclay,  that's  dressy," 
shouted  Blogson. 

A  chorus  of  jeering  cries  applauded  these 
taunts ;  and,  as  the  boys  scampered  away,  Sam 
sang  out  the  refrain  of  a  familiar  song : 

"  Good-bye  my  lover,  good-bye ! " 

This  line  suggested  to  Tom  the  words  of  an- 
other love-lay  and  that  precocious  lad  made  the 
night  air  vocal  with : 

"  Roll  on,  silver  moon, 
Guide  the  trav'ler  on  his  way  !  " 

How  under  the  guidance  of  the  silver  moon, 
Barclay  made  shift  to  reach  the  paternal  roof 
that  night,  is  to  this  day  shrouded  in  mystery. 
But  certain  it  is  the  crestfallen  hero  lived  in  re- 
tirement for  a  full  fortnight,  after  which  he 
returned  to  the  scenes  of  his  former  glory,  a 
sadder,  if  not  a  wiser  man. 


XX 

A  MODEL   SCHOOL   EXAMINATION 

THE  summer  months  glided  away  and  with 
them  the  unchartered  freedom  which  vacation 
brings  to  the  schoolboy.  Once  more  books 
claimed  five  days  a  week  and  six  hours  every 
day.  The  routine  of  study  and  recitation  within 
brick  walls  had  to  be  followed  instead  of  the  de- 
lightful curriculum  of  do-as-you-please,  out  of 
doors,  under  the  illimitable  sky.  Tom  went 
regularly  to  the  Forest  Glen  Union  School,  and 
with  his  classmates,  was  allotted  his  daily  ration 
of  text-book,  and  ground  through  the  flint-mill 
of  monthly  examination. 

Tom's  inquisitive  turn,  and  habit  of  employing 
common  sense  in  his  mental  operations,  caused 
him  much  misgiving.  He  pondered  over  the 
blind  mystery  of  the  monthly  ordeal,  with  in- 
congruous feelings  of  amusement  and  dread. 
The  more  he  thought  about  the  matter  the  more 
he  was  perplexed.  He  would  go  from  room  to 
room,  in  the  great  school  building,  and  stare  at 
the  inscriptions  upon  the  blackboards, — the  long 
lists  of  conundrums  to  be  answered  on  paper  as 
a  condition  of  being  promoted.  His  quizzical  in- 

140 


MODEL  SCHOOL  EXAMINATION    141 

terest  in  these  wonderful  lists  increased  as  he 
inspected  the  blackboards  in  the  rooms  of  the 
advanced  grades. 

"  Charley,"  he  said  to  his  chum  Blogson,  "  I 
don't  see  any  sense  in  the  questions,  do  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  grave  answer.  "I 
never  thought  of  it." 

"  Where  do  you  s'pose  Mr.  Gadmeter  finds  all 
these  queer  things  to  ask  ?  I  don't  see  how  he 
can  make  them  all  up ;  that  would  be  enough  to 
kill  him  or  make  him  go  crazy !  " 

"  I  dun  know,  Tom,"  said  Charley,  in  a  blank  and 
weary  tone,  which  seemed  to  beg  that  no  more 
should  be  asked  on  the  dreadful  subject. 

"I  know,"  put  in  Joseph  Bogus.  "He  has 
books  of  questions  with  the  answers.  I  saw, 
over  at  his  house,  a  whole  shelf  full  of  such 
books." 

"  Did  you  borrow  any  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  I  don't  need  to,"  answered  the  evasive  Jo- 
seph. "I  don't  borrow  and  I  don't  lend.  I 
don't  ask  help  nor  give  help.  Every  fellow  for 
himself,  is  my  rule." 

"That  isn't  Tom's  rule,"  retorted  Blogson. 
"  He  helps  me  every  day.  He  helped  you  too, 
Jo,  when  you  fell  through  the  hole  in  the  ice  last 
winter." 

"  That's  much  different,"  snapped  Joseph ;  and 
he  walked  away  with  an  injured  look. 

The  weeks  and  months  passed  on,  subjecting 


142  TOM  TAD 

the  boys  to  the  ordinary  humdrum  duties  of  the 
school.  Near  the  end  of  the  December  exami- 
nations, and  just  before  the  holiday  vacation, 
Tom  conceived  the  whimsical  notion  of  holding 
an  examinatoin  for  the  entertainment  of  his  fa- 
miliar mates.  One  day,  after  Mr.  Gadmeter  had 
left  the  schoolhouse,  the  boys  gathered  in  that 
functionary's  room,  and  Tom,  having  locked  the 
door  on  the  inside,  and  put  the  key  into  his 
pocket,  stepped  pompously  upon  the  dais,  mim- 
icking the  manner  and  voice  of  the  Principal. 

"  Boys,  let  there  be  perfect  order  in  the  room." 
Here  Tom  struck  the  little  gong  on  the  table  be- 
fore him  violently  five  or  six  times,  and  rolled 
his  eyes  severely  from  side  to  side,  at  the  same 
time  plucking  at  his  chin  as  if  twisting  an  imagi- 
nary beard.  "  Young  gentlemen,  I  shall  expect 
absolute  silence  and  decorum.  You  are  all 
gentlemen  and  the  sons  of  gentlemen,  remember 
that.  Charles  Blogson,  you  impudent  monkey, 
sit  down,  or  I'll  tan  your  hide. 

"  We  are  here  to  be  examined  in  animals.  I 
rejoice  that  we  live  in  a  free  country  where  every 
American  boy  is  compelled  to  cram  up  and  pass 
his  grade.  Now  I  want  every  two-legged  biped 
in  this  room  to  take  his  seat  by  himself  as  far 
apart  as  you  can  get.  I  want  to  prove  to  you  by 
your  own  black  ink  that  you  don't  know  nothing 
whatever,  nor  animals  either,  though  you  have 
had  all  the  disadvantages  of  education,  for  you 


MODEL  SCHOOL  EXAMINATION    143 

go  to  school  and  attend  my  lectures  to  boot. 
You  will  be  stuck  on  the  very  first  question.  I 
want  to  encourage  you  at  the  start  by  candidly 
telling  you  that  you  can't  squirm  through  this 
examination  any  more  than  a  rhinoceros  can 
crawl  through  a  pipe  stem.  If  any  of  you  hap- 
pen to  answer  any  of  my  questions  right,  I'll  be 
bound  that  you  cheated,  for  it  isn't  in  you  to  an- 
swer them  right.  But  if  you  feel  sure,  before- 
hand, that  you  can't  answer,  and  ask  me  to  let 
you  off,  then  I'll  know  you  are  trying  to  sneak 
out  of  your  duty. 

"  Well,  now  we  are  about  ready  to  begin  the 
slaughter.  Scatter  apart,  stop  whispering,  shut 
your  eyes,  hold  your  nose,  and  put  cotton  in  your 
ears,  for  I  want  to  trust  to  your  honesty,  and  un- 
less I  tie  it  up  well  it  can't  be  trusted.  Of  course 
there  are  boys  that  I  can  trust." 

Here  Tom  cast  a  glance  of  exaggerated  admi- 
ration at  Joseph  Bogus,  whereat  the  other  boys 
raised  a  yell  of  derision. 

"  Young  gentlemen,  I  am  pained  at  you.  Re- 
member that  you  are  all  gentlemen  and  the  sons 
of  gentlemen.  Samuel  Noggle,  your  conduct  is 
that  of  a  savage.  Remove  your  hat  from  your 
feet  this  instant,  or  I  shall  expel  you  by  force ! 
"William  Henry  Bowling,  take  off  your  cuffs,  sir, 
and  bring  them  to  this  table.  I  can  see  that  you 
have  copied  the  answers  in  advance.  Ready,  all ! 
Sharpen  your  pencils  and  prepare  to  proceed.  I 


144  TOM  TAD 

shall  put  the  questions  upon  the  blackboard,  and 
you  shall  have  full  time  to  answer  them.  Be  de- 
liberate and  rapid.  I  shall  expect  brief  and  ex- 
tended answers.  Of  course  I  shall  take  off  for 
spelling  and  punctuality.  One  thing  more :  Do 
not  bother  me  by  asking  what  the  questions 
mean.  That  is  your  lookout,  not  mine.  Your 
respected  teacher  is  not  now  being  examined. 
Again,  let  me  warn  you,  no  cheating.  You  know 
I  have  eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head.  I  shall 
compel  you  to  be  honest.  And  I  will  remark,  just 
here,  that  I  have  already  made  out  your  per  cents, 
ahead,  and  if  you  don't  come  up  to  them,  the 
whole  school  will  know  what  hypocrites  you 
are." 

Having  delivered  this  preliminary  address, 
Tom  took  a  paper  from  his  coat-tail  pocket  and 
solemnly  read  aloud  the  following : 

QUESTIONS  ON  ANIMALS. 

1.  Classify  the  animal,  vegetable,  and  min- 
eral kingdoms. 

2.  Compare  mind  and  matter. 

3.  What's    the  mind,  and  what's  the  mat- 
ter? 

4.  Describe  the  universe.     Give  illustrations. 

5.  What  does  the  microscope  reveal  ?    Why  ? 

6.  Mention  the  various  functions. 

7.  Frame     ten    hard     questions     on     bugs 


MODEL  SCHOOL  EXAMINATION    145 

and  tortoises,  and  answer  them  on  a  separate 
sheet. 

7.  Which  and  for  what  reason  ? 

9.  Discuss  corpuscles  and  germs  and  give 
specifications. 

10.  Explain  monkeys. 

11.  What  do  our  best  physicians  do  to  cure  a 
trilobite  ? 

12.  Is  a  Peruvian  dog's  bark  good  for  the 
ague  ? 

13.  Is  a  ground-hog  swine  ? 

14.  Where  does  a  flamingo  ? 

15.  For  what  does  a  porcupine  ? 

16.  Can  a  zebra  louder  than  a  donkey  ? 

17.  What  does  Huxley  say  ? 

18.  Give  the  biological  modus  operandi  of  ex- 
tinct protoplasm. 

19.  Define  all  the  scientific  terms  in  the  dic- 
tionary.    Give  their  meaning. 

20.  Copy  your    answers,  and    parse   all  the 
words  in  full. 

These  questions  being  correct  as  to  orthog- 
raphy, and  having  a  decidedly  sarcastic  method 
in  their  madness,  it  is  reasonable  to  infer  that 
Uncle  Felix  had  something  to  do  with  their  in- 
vention. Tom,  with  his  usual  want  of  fore- 
thought, wrote  the  test  sentences  upon  the  black- 
board, where  Miss  Belmont  read  them  the  next 
day,  to  her  infinite  amusement.  But  she  rubbed 
them  off  before  Mr.  Gadmeter  appeared,  and 


146  TOM  TAD 

thus,  perhaps  saved  the  self-constituted  examiner 
a  second  castigation.  "However,"  she  medi- 
tated, "it  is  doubtful  whether  or  not  the  Princi- 
pal would  have  discovered  anything  out  of  the 
way  in  the  questions." 


XXI 

THE  EAIN  DESCENDED  AND  THE  FLOODS  GAME 

AN  unprecedented  fall  of  snow  had  covered 
the  vast  basin  of  the  great  stream  which  flows 
from  the  Alleghanies  to  the  Mississippi.  The 
massed  flakes  driven  and  heaped  upon  mountains 
in  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia,  and  capping  a  thou- 
sand hills  in  Ohio  and  Kentucky,  were  dissolved 
by  long-continued,  violent  rains.  An  enormous 
quantity  of  water,  hurrying  down  the  frozen 
surfaces,  rushed,  by  innumerable  torrents,  and 
by  swollen  rivers,  to  the  one  gorged  outlet,  the 
Ohio.  The  bottom  lands  were  deeply  inundated ; 
fences,  barns,  houses,  were  swept  away;  thou- 
sands of  cattle  perished ;  and  many  human  lives 
were  lost  in  the  general  devastation. 

The  tenement  occupied  by  Peter  Noggle  and 
his  family,  like  hundreds  of  other  buildings,  was 
surrounded  by  the  rising  flood,  and  looked  forlorn 
and  desolate  standing  in  a  waste  of  muddy  water. 
The  only  means  of  communication  with  the  vil- 
lage was  by  boat,  and  the  "  men-folks,"  as  Mrs. 
Noggle  called  them,  had  been  on  a  voyage  to  the 
grocery  for  a  stock  of  provisions.  There  was  no 
reason  why  Peter  should  have  gone,  except  to 

147 


148  TOM  TAD 

enjoy  the  ride,  and  no  motive  for  old  "Wash 
Barton's  going,  save  the  impulse  of  adventurous 
spirit  which  age  had  not  subdued ;  but  Sam,  as 
the  acknowledged  head  and  manager  of  the  house, 
was  bound  to  go  and  come,  plan  and  protect ;  to 
anticipate,  and  provide  for,  all  emergencies. 

The  three,  seated  in  a  skiff  rowed  by  Sam,  fell 
into  animated  conversation  as  they  approached 
their  inconvenient  dwelling-place. 

"  It  stands  to  reason,  Peter,"  said  old  "Wash 
Barton,  "  that  we  sha'n't  see  another  flood  such 
as  we  had  last  February.  Two  such  floods  don't 
come  near  together.  I'm  an  old  man,  and  I've 
seen  many  an  overflow  of  this  river,  but  that  of 
last  year  was  the  boss  flood.  It  beat  them  all. 
I  recollect  the  famous  'pumpkin'  flood,  when 
the  pumpkins  were  all  washed  away  from  the 
farmers'  fields  along  the  lower  bottoms,  and  car- 
ried off  looking  like  the  heads  of  drowning  men. 
I  remember  what  an  excitement  there  was  about 
the  destruction  of  property.  It  was  bad  enough, 
but  nothing  to  compare  with  the  ruination  caused 
last  year." 

"  Seems  to  me  it's  bad  enough  now,"  said  Sam. 

"  Yes,  so  it  is ;  but  I  prophesy  the  river  will 
fall  before  many  hours." 

"  She  is  rising  fast,"  said  Sam.  "  She  is  rising 
an  inch  every  hour;  and  only  lacks  a  foot  of 
coming  up  to  the  mark  of  last  year.  Here  is  last 
year's  high  water  mark."  Sam  brought  the  skiff 


THE  RAIN  DESCENDED  149 

alongside  a  window,  and  placed  the  end  of  his 
dripping  oar  on  the  level  line.  "  You  see  it  don't 
lack  much  of  being  as  high  already." 

"  I  ca'culate  the  boy  is  about  right,  Washing- 
ton," drawled  Peter ;  "  or,  maybe  not.  You're 
an  older  man  than  either  of  us.  There's  no 
telling." 

"But  there  is  telling,"  bluntly  responded  the 
octogenarian.  "  The  river  will  go  down  to-night ; 
take  my  word  for  it,  and  rest  easy." 

The  energetic  old  man  and  the  flaccid  Peter 
clambered  in  at  the  open  window,  and,  treading 
a  plank  which  crossed  the  dark  waters  that  half 
filled  the  basement  rooms,  reached  the  stairway, 
which  they  ascended  to  the  upper  apartments. 
Sam  made  fast  the  boat  and  followed,  bringing 
along  the  basket  containing  eatables.  The  rooms 
to  which  the  pursuing  element  had  driven  the 
Noggle  family,  with  all  their  goods  and  chattels, 
were  small  and  inconvenient.  Mandy  was  fright- 
ened and  peevish ;  Mrs.  Noggle,  sullen,  like  the 
unreasonable  and  frowning  tide  which  eddied 
around  the  shaken  walls  imprisoning  her.  De- 
prived of  access  to  the  saloon,  and  tormented  by 
a  habitual  craving  for  strong  drink,  she  had 
grown  restive.  She  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  rumpled 
bed,  and  gazed  out  upon  the  broad  river,  down 
whose  swift  current  masses  of  ice  and  black  fleets 
of  driftwood  were  hurrying.  It  was  late  in  the 
day,  and  Sam  busied  himself  setting  a  rude  table, 


150  TOM  TAD 

talking  as  cheerfully  as  he  could  under  the  dismal 
circumstances. 

"  This  is  worse  than  living  in  a  family-boat, 
isn't  it,  gran'daddy  ?  "We  have  less  room  and  no 
chance  of  moving." 

"  I  like  the  boat  better  than  any  house,"  re- 
plied the  old  man.  "  Life  on  a  boat  is  free  and 
independent.  You're  always  on  the  top  of  the 
water,  however  high  it  rises ;  and,  if  you  don't 
want  to  stay  in  one  spot,  you  can  float  oil  to  an- 
other. "Water  is  safer  than  land. — Nelly,  hadn't 
you  better  lie  down  ?  You  look  pale." 

These  last  words  betrayed  an  uneasiness  that 
usually  haunted  Mr.  Barton,  when  Mrs.  Noggle 
in  her  morbid  moods,  fixed  her  contemplation 
too  much  on  the  river.  The  old  man  went  to  his 
daughter  and  sat  down  beside  her  interposing  his 
body  between  her  and  the  window.  She  rose 
with  a  peculiar  dignity  which  came  to  her  at  un- 
certain times,  met  her  father's  troubled  glance 
with  a  smile,  and  relieved  Sam  of  his  cares  and 
tasks,  saying,  "  You  need  rest,  Sam,  I  will  get 
the  supper." 

"  I'm  not  tired  a  bit,  mother ;  I  will  help  you. 
Here,  Mandy,  I  bought  you  some  gingerbread. 
And,  oh  yes,  gran'daddy,  I  had  almost  forgot. 
Dr.  Eldon  sent  you  this  newspaper,  for  he  knows 
you  like  to  read,  and  he  thought  you  couldn't  get 
to  town  now." 

"  Why  not  ?    I'm  hale  as  hickory.    Does  he 


THE  KAIN  DESCENDED  151 

think  "Wash  Barton  unable  to  manage  a  boat  ? 
Not  much.  Nothing  would  suit  me  better  than 
to  navigate  an  old-fashioned  broad-horn  down 
the  Mississippi." 

"I  wouldn't  resk  it,"  remarked  Peter,  munch- 
ing a  mouthful  of  Mandy's  gingerbread.  "  You 
mought.  Seems  like  I'm  pow'ful  weak.  Tetch 
of  consumption."  He  took  another  mouthful, 
and  subsided. 

Wash  Barton,  who  could  read  fine  print  with- 
out spectacles,  perused  the  Gazette.  He  turned 
to  the  "  Kiver  News,"  and  the  "  Weather  Ke- 
port,"  and  learned  that  the  prospect  was  for 
higher  water. 

"  *  Kising  and  raining ' — nonsense !  It  can't  be  1 
These  newspaper  men  think  they  know  more 
about  the  Ohio  Kiver  than  I  do,  who  have  spent 
over  eighty  years  studying  it.  It  will  go  down 
before  morning." 

They  sat  down  around  the  table,  Barton  keep- 
ing the  newspaper  in  his  hand  and  glancing  over 
it,  while  Peter,  Sam  and  Mandy  ate.  Presently 
Mrs.  Noggle  left  her  place  and  passed  into  a 
small  bedroom  adjoining  the  cramped  chamber 
in  which  the  family  huddled.  Her  father  stepped 
to  the  partition  door,  and  saw  that  she  had  cast 
herself  upon  a  bed. 

"That's  right,  I'll  shut  the  door  and  do  you 
try  and  sleep."  He  closed  the  door,  and,  return- 
ing to  his  chair,  resumed  his  newspaper. 


152  TOM  TAD 

"What's  the  news?"  asked  Sam.  "I'll  bet 
they  haven't  gathered  any  news  from  this  town." 

"Well,  now,  don't  be  too  certain  of  that. 
Here's  California,  and  Miamiville,  and  Kipley, 
and  Ridgeville,  and  Minktown,  and  Lawrence- 
burg  " 

"Is  Christiansburg  there,  where  Barclay 
Snooks  used  to  live  ?  " 

"  No,  but  here,  as  sure  as  you're  born,  Sam,  is 
Forest  Glen." 

"  Is  it,  for  a  fact  ?  Le'  me  see,  gran'daddy." 
And  the  boy  rather  unceremoniously  took  pos- 
session of  the  Gazette  and  began  to  read : 

"  Forest  Glen — Society  Happenings,  etc.  Mrs. 
Judge  Bogus  gave  a  delightful  little  party  at  her 
elegant  residence  on  Catalpa  Avenue  on  the 
evening  of  Thursday  last.  Among  the  guests 
were  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Blurnas,  and  their  charming 
daughter,  and  Mr.  Claude  Rockingham. 

"  Mr.  Ichabod  Waddle  of  the  firm  of  Blinks 
and  Waddle  has  just  returned  from  a  trip  to  the 
Queen  City  where  he  was  called  to  the  sick  bed 
of  his  wife's  uncle,  Timothy  Jarvis.  Mr.  Waddle 
took  occasion  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  fine  dry  goods 
of  the  latest  style. 

"  It  is  currently  reported  that  Barclay  Snooks, 
Esq.,  a  young  gentleman  of  wealth  and  refine- 
ment, is  to  be  married  to  Miss  Eachel  Rebecca 
McStaver,  daughter  of  one  of  our  leading  politi- 
cians." 


THE  RAIN  DESCENDED  153 

"  You  don't  say !  "  droned  Peter.  "  There  is 
fifty  cents  a-coming  to  me  fer  the  boat.  I  do 
wonder.  Did  you  understand  from  what  you 
gather  that  he  was  engaged  to  marry  them  ?  " 

"It  says  he  is  to  be  married  to  Miss  Kachel 
Rebecca  McStaver,  but  there  isn't  no  such  per- 
son. There  is  Rach  and  Beck  both,  but  they 
ain't  the  same  girl." 

"  Does  the  paper  say  so  ? "  Peter  returned, 
confusedly.  "  It  reminds  me  of  a  circumstance, 
"Washington.  There  was  a  party  lived  up  here — 
I  can't  jist  remember  his  name, — everybody 
knowed  him  though,  and  he  had  a  daughter  too. 
Bimeby  a  young  feller  comes  along,  and  speaks 
up  and  says  to  this  man, — what  the  mischief  was 
his  name  ? — I'll  ketch  it,  bimeby ; — I  forgit  the 
words  he  made  use  of,  but  anyway,  it  didn't  turn 
out  to  suit  him,  and  he  says  to  this  young  woman, 
he  says,  '  You  can't  eat  yer  cake  and  not  eat  it,' 
says  he.  I've  thought  over  that  fer  days  and 
days,  and  it  is  so.  What  you  was  reading  re- 
minds me  of  it."  Peter  grinned  a  broad  appre- 
ciation of  his  "  circumstance,"  and  filled  his  to- 
bacco pipe. 

Darkness  had  stolen  upon  the  group  while  they 
were  eating  and  talking,  and  Mandy  had  fallen 
asleep  in  her  chair.  Sam  lifted  his  sister  and 
placed  her  upon  the  mattress  in  one  corner  of 
the  room,  then  lighted  a  lamp  and  stepping  to 
the  door  of  his  mother's  room  he  softly  opened 


154  TOM  TAD 

it  and  peered  in.  The  lamplight  shone  upon  an 
empty  bed.  Sam  entered  the  room  and  searched 
it  round  for  his  mother ;  she  was  not  to  be 
be  found.  To  avoid  alarming  his  father  or  grand- 
father, he  softly  closed  the  partition  door ;  then 
went  to  the  window,  and,  holding  the  light  so  that 
it  enabled  him  to  see  objects  on  the  outside, 
looked  for  the  boat,  but  saw  only  the  water  lap- 
ping against  the  side  of  the  house.  His  eye  soon 
caught  sight  of  a  rope  which  dangled  from  the 
window,  and  which  was  trailing  and  writhing  in 
the  agitated  current,  like  a  water-snake.  He 
shuddered  at  the  apprehension  that  his  mother 
might  have  drowned  herself,  but  on  reflection  he 
took  comfort  in  the  likelihood  that  she  had  de- 
scended by  means  of  the  rope  to  the  skiff,  and 
had  rowed  ashore.  "  She  has  gone  to  town  for 
whiskey,"  was  his  bitter  conjecture.  "I  will 
swim  over  and  bring  her  back." 

Sam  prepared  to  execute  his  desperate  resolve. 
He  came  out  from  his  mother's  room  and  closed 
the  door  behind  him.  "Keep  still,  and  don't 
wake  mother,  I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour.  I'm 
going  ashore.  Gran'daddy,  read  daddy  to  sleep, 
and  then  go  to  bed  yourself." 

Leaving  these  prompt  commands,  the  boy  went 
half-way  down  the  stairs,  walked  the  plank  to  the 
open  window,  and  was  about  to  plunge  into  the 
ice-cold  river,  when  a  skiff  struck  the  projecting 
end  of  the  light  gangway  on  which  he  stood. 


THE  KAIN  DESCENDED  155 

"Mother!" 

"Sam!  don't  kill  me  !" 

"  Be  still,  mother !  They  don't  know.  Give 
me  the  end  of  the  boat-chain.  Now,  step  up, 
and  go  sit  upon  the  stairs  until  I  come." 

The  woman  obeyed.  Sam  reached  from  the 
window  to  find  the  staple  which  he  had  driven 
into  the  wall  to  fasten  the  boat  by.  It  was 
several  inches  under  water.  Helen  Noggle  sat 
shivering  upon  the  stair.  Just  below  her  the 
water,  in  the  main  room  of  the  house,  as  in  a 
black  cistern,  was  creeping  up  inchmeal,  second 
by  second.  She  moved  to  the  edge  of  the  steps 
and  leaned  over  the  invisible  danger.  Sam  came 
to  her,  put  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  and 
whispered  in  her  ear : 

"  Stay  where  you  are ;  I  will  come  back  for 
you."  Soon  he  went  up  as  stealthily  as  a  thief 
in  the  night.  The  lamp  was  burning  dim.  Peter 
Noggle  sat  dozing  in  his  chair;  "Wash  Barton 
had  lain  down  upon  the  bed,  and  his  eyes  were 
shut.  "  Are  you  awake  ?  "  said  Sam,  in  a  low 
voice.  The  only  answer  was  an  irresolute  snore 
from  Peter.  Sam  softly  opened  the  door  to  his 
mother's  chamber.  Then,  with  noiseless  paces, 
he  made  his  way  back  to  the  object  of  his  pain- 
ful care.  "  Now  come,"  he  said,  and  led  her  up- 
stairs and  through  the  occupied  room.  She 
stared  in  a  bewildered  way,  at  her  husband 
snoring  in  his  chair,  at  her  father  slumbering 


156  TOM  TAD 

quietly  on  the  bed ;  then  she  started  forward  as  if 
walking  in  her  sleep,  her  staggering  motions 
guided  by  Sam,  who  hurried  her  into  her  own 
apartment.  There,  into  the  utter  darkness,  like 
some  haggard  phantom  of  the  night,  some  weird 
water-witch  or  Banchee,  she  vanished.  Sam 
heard  a  drowsy  voice  say,  "  Mammy,"  and,  look- 
ing, he  saw  Mandy  half  sitting  up  in  her  cot. 
"  I  thought  I  saw  mammy,"  she  said,  and  yawn- 
ing sank  back  upon  her  straw  pillow.  The  boy 
put  out  the  light  and  followed  his  mother  into 
her  room,  but  not  a  word  was  exchanged.  She 
flung  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  was  soon  in  a 
drunken  sleep.  Sam  did  not  lie  down.  He 
stationed  himself  by  the  window,  on  a  low 
wooden  stool.  The  rain  began  to  fall,  the  wintry 
winds  beat  the  drops  against  the  panes,  and 
caused  the  house  to  shake  and  shudder  as  if  in  an 
ague  fit.  Sam  wrapped  about  his  shoulders  an 
old  shawl  which  he  found  hanging  on  a  nail  near 
by,  and  settled  himself  on  his  stool  for  a  night's 
rest.  Miserable  as  his  situation  was,  he  em- 
ployed his  will  to  banish  thoughts  of  present  ill 
and  fears  of  future  trouble. 


XXII 

ADRIFT 

DREARY  was  the  scene  upon  which  the  in- 
mates of  the  Noggle  house  looked  forth  on  the 
morning  after  the  escapade  of  Sam's  mother. 
The  river  had  risen  steadily  through  the  night, 
and  the  rain  was  still  descending  as  if  the  win- 
dows of  heaven  had  been  opened  to  deluge  the 
earth  once  more.  Over  the  angry  Ohio  hung  a 
fog  through  which  could  be  seen,  drifting  in  fleet 
procession,  innumerable  objects  which,  indis- 
tinctly outlined  in  the  rain  and  mist,  had  a  weird 
and  portentous  aspect.  Forest  trees  stretching 
out  great  gnarled  limbs,  floated  wildly  along, 
like  huge  giants  with  many  crooked  arms,  strug- 
gling in  the  flood.  Heaps  of  blackened  wood, 
stacks  of  hay,  sections  of  bridges,  fragments  of 
machinery,  and  buildings  of  various  kinds,  were 
hurried  onward,  chasing  one  another  down 
stream,  as  if  with  some  mad  purpose.  Sam, 
watching  with  excited  interest  each  curious 
shape  as  it  hove  in  view  and  was  carried  swiftly 
across  the  scope  of  his  vision,  beheld  a  solitary 
rooster  standing  in  desperate  calmness,  on  the 
top  of  a  fast-voyaging  pile  of  barnyard  straw. 

157 


158  TOM  TAD 

And  not  long  after  chanticleer  and  his  straw-pile 
had  vanished  from  sight  in  the  gloomy  distance, 
a  more  affecting  spectacle  brought  moisture  to 
the  boy's  kind  eyes.  A  dog-kennel  drifted  past, 
half  sunken,  and,  clinging  upon  its  roof,  a  dog, 
with  a  chain  about  his  neck,  howled  so  loud  that 
the  piteous  sound  was  plainly  heard  above  the 
rush  of  the  waters. 

"Wash  Barton,  when  he  surveyed  the  surging 
expanse,  ventured  no  new  words  of  prophecy. 
Perhaps  he  wished  he  had  not  been  so  positive 
the  day  before.  However,  he  felt  no  dismay. 
He  rather  gloried  in  the  magnificent  sweep  and 
overwhelming  grandeur  of  his  beloved  Ohio 
Kiver. 

"  There's  a  picture  for  you,  Sam !  I'm  glad  I 
am  alive  to  see  this  flood.  Look !  Nelly !  Why, 
it's  a  regular  ocean !  I  just  tell  you,  the  Beauti- 
ful Eiver  beats  them  all!  Isn't  she  grand!  I 
wish  I  were  out  there  on  a  stout  boat ! " 

"  Do  you  think  we  are  safe  here,"  asked  Sam, 
who  was  very  solicitous  concerning  his  mother 
and  sister. 

"Safe!  Perfectly  safe!  There's  very  little 

current  here.  Besides "  He  was  going  to 

say  the  river  would  soon  fall,  but  he  recollected 
his  previous  wrong  guesses,  and  checked  him- 
self. 

"  We  must  change  our  wharf  to  an  upper  win- 
dow," said  Sam.  "  The  water  is  clean  to  the  top 


ADRIFT  159 

of  the  one  we  came  in  at  yesterday.  Daddy, 
hadn't  you  and  Mandy  better  go  ashore  and  stay 
a  few  days  at  the  schoolhouse  till  the  water  goes 
down  ?  There  was  a  good  many  folks  staying 
there  yesterday,  from  that  row  of  little  houses 
close  by  Glen  Creek.  They  were  afraid  they 
would  be  drowned  out,  and  the  people  up  in  town 
let  them  sleep  in  the  schoolhouse  and  eat  there. 
It's  a  right  nice  place." 

"  Something  or  other'll  have  to  be  done,  some- 
how or  other,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  don't  reckon 
it  would  be  a  bad  notion.  I'm  feeling  poorly, 
this  weather,  off  and  on,  and  not  a  bit  well.  Dis. 
tress  in  my  back." 

Peter  offering  no  resistance,  he  and  Mandy 
were  expeditiously  shipped  to  the  village,  and 
quarters  were  secured  for  them,  with  other  refu- 
gees, in  the  schoolhouse.  Sam  made  many  trips 
to  and  fro  between  the  house  and  the  shore,  and 
took  delight  in  treating  his  boy  acquaintances  to 
an  excursion  among  the  partly  submerged  houses. 

After  supper,  Thomas  Tadmore,  by  permission 
of  his  father,  came  down  to  Forest  Glen  to  see 
the  raging  river.  There  was  to  be  a  concert  at 
one  of  the  churches  in  the  evening,  to  raise 
money  for  the  benefit  of  flood  sufferers,  and  Tom 
was  expected  to  attend  it,  with  the  understand- 
ing that  Fritz  Haberkorn  should  drive  down  at 
about  ten  o'clock  and  bring  him  home.  Tom's 
interest  in  the  concert  was  altogether  subordinate 


160  TOM  TAD 

to  his  desire  to  have  a  boat  ride  with  Sam 
Noggle.  He  was  not  long  in  learning  Sam's 
whereabouts,  nor  did  he  hesitate  to  get  aboard 
his  friend's  light  craft,  when  invited  to  do  so. 
The  two  merry  comrades  made  sundry  trips, 
fetching  and  carrying  necessary  articles  required 
by  Peter  and  Mandy,  on  the  continent,  or  by  the 
sea-surrounded  occupants  of  the  Noggle  mansion. 
Neither  "Wash  Barton  nor  Mrs.  Noggle  would 
forsake  the  house  and  come  ashore,  though  some 
judged  them  foolhardy  to  trust  themselves  for 
another  night  to  the  mercy  of  the  gnawing  and 
swallowing  river.  In  fact,  the  Barton  blood  was 
of  stubborn,  not  to  say  obstinate,  quality,  which 
age  had  aggravated  in  old  Wash,  and  abuse  ren- 
dered incorrigible  in  his  daughter.  The  latter 
had  obtained  at  the  "  People's  Saloon  "  a  supply 
of  liquor,  which,  in  several  small  flasks,  she  had 
cunningly  concealed  about  her  person  before  re- 
turning from  her  furtive  expedition. 

Apparently  indifferent  to  danger,  or  uncon- 
scious of  its  existence,  she  remained  in  her  room 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  half  stupefied 
by  alcohol. 

As  for  tough  old  "Wash,  he  spent  the  hours  in 
a  state  of  rapture  arising  from  his  adoration  of 
the  Ohio  Kiver  which,  the  more  terrific  it  seemed 
to  others,  appeared  the  more  magnificent  to  him. 
Oblivious  to  peril,  he  stood  by  the  window  over- 
looking the  swollen  and  surging  stream,  which 


ADEIFT  161 

was  busily  digging  away  the  foundation  of  the 
house  that  sheltered  him,  and  incessantly  push- 
ing and  lifting  the  strained  and  unstable  struc- 
ture, with  buoyant  force.  Night  was  fast  coming 
on,  and  the  Kentucky  hills  were  no  longer  visible 
through  the  rainy  atmosphere.  But  Wash 
Barton  lingered  by  the  window,  straining  his 
gaze  across  the  seething  water.  Suddenly  he 
felt  a  shock,  and  heard  a  sound  as  of  some 
heavy  object  striking  against  the  house.  A 
small  frame  stable  had  floated  from  its  site  not  a 
hundred  yards  away,  and  had  slowly  drifted 
down  and  lodged  against  the  toggle  house.  A 
few  minutes  elapsed  and  a  skiff  propelled  by 
Sam,  with  Tom  Tadmore  as  assistant,  came  dart- 
ing from  the  Ohio  shore,  and  made  straight  for 
its  port,  the  upper  window  of  the  imperiled  ten- 
ement. Sam  climbed  in  at  the  casement  and 
Tom  followed  him. 

"  Gran'daddy,  you  must  get  out  of  this,  right 
away, — you  and  mother !  "We  will  all  go  ashore 
in  the  skift.  The  people  say  you  are  crazy  to 
stay  here,  for  the  house  is  sure  to  drift  away  be- 
fore morning.  The  river  is  still  rising,  and  the 
paper  says  there  is  a  foot  or  two  more  coming 
from  Pittsburg.  Two  houses  have  been  washed 
away  from  Glen  Creek  bottom  already,  and 
Jones's  stable  is  lodged  against  the  end  of  our 
house  now.  Be  quick ! " 

"  Pooh !  pooh !  you  are  scared,  Sam.     I  thought 


162  TOM  TAD 

you  was  more  of  a  Barton  than  to  be  afraid  of  a 
freshet.  There's  not  a  bit  of  danger.  I've  nav- 
igated this  blessed  old  river " 

"  Sam !  Sam  ! "  screamed  Tom,  "  look  at  the 
chimney !  look  at  the  chimney !  It's  going 
down ! " 

The  chimney  was  indeed  sinking  gradually 
through  the  floor  !  Its  foundation  had  been  un- 
dermined, and  the  heavy  column  settled  into  the 
watery  chasm.  A  rattling  of  bricks  falling  on 
the  roof,  roused  Helen  Noggle  from  her  drunken 
slumber.  She  staggered  from  her  bed  and  tot- 
tered to  her  father. 

"  Where  are  we  ?    Where's  Sam's  baby  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  were  the  composed  words 
of  old  Wash  Barton.  "Be  a  brave  girl,  and 
have  your  wits  about  you,  or  we  shall  all  be 
drowned.  Sam,  you  are  right.  We  must  take 
to  the  boat." 

"Drowned?"  repeated  the  woman  in  a  tone 
of  horror.  "  Drowned !  Drowned !  Drowned  I 
why  do  you  throw  it  up  to  me  ?  " 

"  Nelly,  wake !  you  are  in  a  nightmare !  You 
are  dreaming !  Eouse  up !  I  tell  you  we  must 
take  the  boat !  Sam,  bring  the  skiff  under  the 
window. — What  ails  you  ?  You  stand  there  like 
a  frozen  man." 

"  The  boat  is  gone ! " 

"Gone!"  echoed  Tom.  "How  will  I  get 
back?  What  will  mother  say  ?" 


ADRIFT  163 

"  Keep  your  heads  level,  boys.  I've  been  in  a 
worse  predicament  than  this.  The  Ohio  Kiver 
is  a  good  old  friend  of  mine.  But  I  am  sorry 
you  let  the  skiff  get  away." 

"  I  thought  I  fastened  the  chain ;  but  I  must 
have  been  careless.  Mother,  light  the  lamp ! " 

This  last  sentence  was  uttered  in  the  impera- 
tive but  quiet  voice  which  Mrs.  Noggle  had 
learned  to  heed  as  if  it  were  the  voice  of  fate. 
She  came  to  her  senses  at  once,  and,  finding  a 
match,  struck  it  on  the  plastered  wall.  The 
match  kindled  with  an  explosive  snapping,  and 
as  it  did  so,  emitting  a  faint  blue  light,  "Wash 
Barton  became  aware  of  a  sensation  that  for  the 
instant  appalled  even  him.  The  house  was  afloat, 
with  a  motion  which  was  almost  imperceptible 
at  first,  but  which  became  swift  and  swifter. 
Careening  now  to  this  side  and  now  to  that,  the 
doomed  dwelling  was  driven  and  whirled  into 
the  boiling  current  of  the  main  channel  of  the 
Ohio,  while  storm  and  darkness  combined  to 
baffle  rescue  and  to  hide  the  work  of  destruction. 


XXIII 

TO  THE  EESCUE 

THE  musical  entertainment  given  in  the  Con- 
gregational Church  for  the  benefit  of  the  flood 
sufferers  was  protracted  to  a  late  hour.  Dr.  El- 
don,  occupying  a  seat  near  the  middle  aisle, 
turned  around  more  than  once  during  the  per- 
formance to  cast  anxious  glances  in  search  of 
Tom  who  was  supposed  to  be  somewhere  in  the 
audience.  Promptly  at  ten  o'clock  Fritz  Haber- 
korn  drove  up  to  the  sidewalk,  in  front  of  the 
church,  for  Tom  and  the  doctor.  A  reckless 
driver,  the  hired  man  did  not  notice  that  the 
wheels  of  the  carriage  came  within  an  ace  of 
running  over  a  slim  boy  who,  bareheaded,  hurried 
across  the  street  and  flew  into  the  meeting-house. 
The  singers  had  just  finished  a  chorus,  the  last 
number  of  the  program,  when  Squinty  Eunkle 
scurried  up  the  main  aisle  of  the  sanctuary, 
startling  the  small  congregation. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Dr.  Eldon,  rising 
and  putting  a  hand  on  Squinty's  narrow  shoulders. 

"Sam's    done  gone    and  Tom!"  wailed  the 
bringer  of  bad  tidings,  and  he  gave  vent  to  sobs 
and  tears. 
164 


TO  THE  KESCUE  165 

"  "What  does  he  say  ?  "  asked  the  pastor  of  the 
church,  waving  his  hand  to  check  the  general 
commotion  in  the  audience. 

Squinty  stammered  over  a  broken  story,  that 
Sam  toggle  and  Tom  Tad  had  paddled  in  a 
skiff  to  the  Noggle  house  and  that  the  house  had 
been  swept  away  by  the  current  of  the  swollen 
river.  The  alarming  testimony  was  quickly 
corroborated  by  other  voices.  The  building  had 
certainly  disappeared,  nor  could  there  be  a 
doubt  that  the  boys,  together  with  Grandfather 
Barton  and  his  daughter,  were  in  the  ill-fated 
building. 

Uncle  Felix  hurried  from  the  church,  sprang 
into  the  ready  carriage,  beside  Fritz,  and  said 
imperatively, 

"  Drive  to  the  schoolhouse." 

"VereissdotTom?" 

"  Never  mind, — whip  up !  Drive  to  the  school- 
house." 

Fritz  lashed  the  horses ;  they  lunged  forward 
and  the  vehicle  rattled  over  the  flinty  stones 
which  struck  sparks  from  iron  shoes.  Arrived 
at  the  schoolhouse,  Felix  rushed  in  and  found  the 
cot  assigned  to  Peter  Noggle.  That  inert  ref- 
ugee was  sound  asleep.  Felix  shook  and 
punched  him  to  languorous  consciousness. 

"  Get  up !  Your  house  is  afloat — washed  away 
by  the  flood  !  Your  wife  and  son  and  father  are 
in  it." 


166  TOM  TAD 

Peter  yawned,  rubbed  his  eyes  and  spoke 
querulously. 

"  Something  or  other'll  have  to  be  done  some- 
how or  other.  I  reckon  you'd  better  wake 
Mandy  ;  or  maybe  not.  Do  what  you  kin  as  f er 
as  you  see  yer  way." 

"Devil  take  such  a  man!"  exclaimed  Eldon, 
making  a  hasty  exit  from  the  schoolhouse,  eager 
to  join  Fritz  in  the  carriage. 

"  Fritz,  there  is  bad  news — terrible  news !  Pete 
^Toggle's  house  has  been  carried  off  by  the  high 
water,  and  Tom  is  in  the  house  ! " 

The  old  soldier  gasped. 

"  Ach !    JSTein !    Dot  poy ! " 

"  Yes,  Fritz,  our  Tom — Tom's  gone ! " 

"  Mein  Gott !  Dot  leetle  Tom  ?  Ich  will  den 
knabe  right  away  zu  hause  bringen ! " 

So  saying,  Fritz  Haberkorn  threw  the  lines 
on  the  dashboard,  leaped  from  the  carriage,  and 
rushed  away  toward  the  baleful  river.  Was  it 
madness,  was  it  blind  divination,  that  drove  or 
led  him,  to  a  rude  jo-boat  into  which  he  stum- 
bled ?  Two  tolerably  serviceable  oars  were  lying 
within  the  rough  craft,  and  these  Fritz  grasped 
firmly  in  his  knotty  fists.  Actuated  not  by  rea- 
son nor  by  duty,  but  impelled  by  the  force  of 
love,  the  great-hearted  German  shoved  the  clumsy 
scow  from  shore  and  pulled  out  into  midcurrent 
of  the  tumultuous  flood. 

Meanwhile  Uncle  Felix,  bearing  in  mind  the 


TO  THE  KESCUE  167 

strange  parting  words  of  Fritz,  made  haste  to  the 
telegraph  office  where  he  instructed  the  operator 
to  despatch  the  fact  that  a  house  with  four  per- 
sons in  it  had  been  swept  away  from  Forest 
Glen. 

"  Keep  the  wires  hot  with  the  message.  Send 
it  to  all  points  down  the  river.  Solicit  every 
possible  exertion  toward  rescue.  Offer,  in  my 
name,  a  thousand  dollars  reward  for  whoever 
shall  save  the  lives  of  the  four  persons." 

Becoming  more  excited  as  he  more  vividly 
realized  what  had  happened,  Dr.  Eldon  drove  up 
the  hill,  at  a  terriffic  rate,  to  disclose  the  dire 
news  to  his  sister  and  his  brother-in-law.  His 
body  throbbed  like  a  fevered  pulse.  Surging 
emotions  bore  him  along,  even  as  the  swirling 
waters  of  the  Ohio  were  hurrying  Fritz  Haber- 
korn  through  stormy  darkness. 

Mr.  Tadmore  and  his  wife  sat  in  the  library 
killing  time  over  the  current  magazines,  when 
their  agitated  kinsman  abruptly  broke  in  upon 
their  silence.  His  nervous  manner  and  haggard 
face  startled  his  sister. 

"  Didn't  Tommy  ride  up  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  drove  up  alone." 

"  Why !    Where  are  Tom  and  Fritz  ?  " 

"Fritz  is  all  right.  He  is  looking  for  Tom. 
The  boy  ventured ;  he  will  soon " 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Be  calm,  Eliza.    There  is  no  occasion  for — 


168  TOM  TAD 

for  despair,"  stammered  Felix.  But  the  falter- 
ing tongue  belied  the  words. 

"  What's  wrong  with  Tom  ?  " 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Eldon,  speak  out,"  de- 
manded Mr.  Tadmore. 

Hurriedly  Dr.  Eldon  imparted  the  dismaying 
facts  of  Tom's  misadventure.  The  mother  stood 
aghast,  staring  into  her  husband's  horrified  eyes. 
His  groaning  words  echoed  her  own  anguish. 

"  Drowned  in  the  Ohio !  Good  God !  Lost  in 
the  flood ! " 

"  No,"  said  Felix  firmly,  "  not  necessarily  lost ; 
the  house  may  hold  together ;  such  disasters  are 
not  always  fatal;  possibly  he  may  be  saved. 
There  is  one  chance  in  a  thousand — we  will  take 
that  chance  and  make  the  most  of  it." 

"What  can  be  done?"  asked  Mr.  Tadmore, 
grasping  at  a  straw  of  hope. 

"  What  may  we  not  do,  if  we  bestir  ourselves 
in  time?  We  must  not  lose  another  minute — 
not  a  second.  Fritz  has  already  started  on  his 
search,  I  know  not  by  what  means." 

Tears  of  gratitude  filled  the  eyes  of  Tom's 
mother.  Felix  continued : 

"  I  have  telegraphed  to  the  towns  below.  Peo- 
ple will  be  on  the  lookout.  You  and  I  must 
hasten  to  Cincinnati." 

"  Yes ! "  assented  Tadmore.  "  We  must  go  on 
horseback,  the  tracks  are  under  water." 

"  Put  on  your  rubber  coat,"  suggested  Eldon. 


TO  THE  KESCUE  169 

"Keep  a  brave  heart,  Eliza.  "We'll  find  Tom. 
Don't  alarm  Hannah.  "We'll  telegraph  to  you. 
We  can  avail  ourselves  of  police  assistance  in  the 
city.  There  may  be  a  better  plan  but  I  can  think 
of  none  better." 

It  was  late  when  the  two  men  set  out  for  Cin- 
cinnati, Felix  Eldon  mounting  a  spirited  roan  colt 
and  Mr.  Tadmore  bestriding  an  old  racer  named 
Rocket.  Their  route  lay  along  a  hillside  thor- 
oughfare, far  above  the  bottom-lands  of  the 
river.  The  road  was  glazed  with  ice ;  a  cold 
drizzle  blew  into  the  faces  of  the  riders ;  a  double 
gloom  of  fog  and  midnight  shrouded  the  land- 
scape; but  the  well -shod,  sure-footed  horses, 
seeming  to  comprehend  in  some  dim  way  be- 
longing to  brutes,  that  issues  of  supreme  import 
were  at  stake,  kept  up  a  brave  gallop,  ungoaded 
by  whip  or  spur.  Onward  they  forged,  steadily, 
stubbornly,  covered  with  a  reek  of  foamy  sweat 
and  snorting  blood-flecked  froth.  Keeping  in 
mind  the  points  of  the  compass,  as  well  as  they 
could,  the  horsemen  struck  into  Columbia  Ave- 
nue, by  which  they  might  have  reached  the  city 
easily ;  but,  by  mischance,  diverging  onto  Kemper 
Lane  in  the  wrong  direction,  they  unwittingly 
were  carried  to  "Walnut  Hills  and  thence  along 
Park  Avenue  into  Eden  Park.  Their  tired 
horses  plodded  along,  breathing  hard,  following 
a  devious  course,  and,  at  length,  bore  them  across 
a  high  stone  causeway  skirting  the  southern 


170  TOM  TAD 

border  of  the  city  reservoir,  and  onward,  up  a 
steep  grade,  to  the  brow  of  a  height  which 
seemed  to  end  all  hope  of  further  journeying  in 
that  direction.  The  jaded  brutes  suddenly  halted, 
and  the  perplexed  travelers  could  only  stare  about 
and  exchange  guesses  as  to  where  they  were. 
Within  a  few  seconds  the  keen  eyes  of  Felix 
Eldon  gave  him  indubitable  evidence  of  his 
whereabouts.  Instantly  he  caught  his  bearings 
and  recovered  a  degree  of  the  pathfinding  faculty. 
He  thought  he  recognized  the  shadowy  outlines 
of  buildings  not  unfamiliar  to  his  sight, — the  old 
observatory,  the  Highland  House,  and  other  con- 
spicuous landmarks.  The  spot  upon  which  the 
horses  paused  was  the  verge  of  the  plateau  upon 
which  Rock  wood  Pottery  now  stands.  By  day- 
light the  men  might  have  seen  from  that  lofty 
level  the  Queen  City,  the  Ohio  River  and  its 
bridges,  and  the  bold  Kentucky  hills. 

"We  have  come  far  out  of  our  way,"  said 
Felix.  "  This  is  Mount  Adams,  and  below  us  lies 
Cincinnati.  It  looks  like  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death.  We  must  have  turned  off  too 
soon  and  lost  precious  time  by  riding  through 
Eden  Park.  We  must  find  or  make  a  bridle-path 
from  this  place  to  the  city." 

Admonished  by  the  stings  of  anxiety,  the  men 
resumed  their  journey,  relying  upon  the  instinct 
of  the  dumb  brutes  rather  than  upon  their  own 
human  sagacity,  to  choose  an  available  means  of 


TO  THE  RESCUE  171 

descent.  Whether  owing  to  mere  good  luck,  or 
to  blind  faith  in  horse-sense,  or  to  the  sure  lead- 
ing of  the  Divine  Hand,  they  were  carried  safely 
down  along  slippery  winding  ways  to  the  west- 
ern border  of  the  Park;  and,  at  length,  were 
borne  under  the  stone  archway  of  Elsinore  Gate, 
into  Gilbert  Avenue.  Their  journey  was  pursued 
thence  slowly  along  unfamiliar  streets,  not  illu- 
minated by  a  single  public  lamp,  for  the  gas- 
works were  under  water  and  the  city  was  left 
in  total  darkness.  Finally  they  came  to  the 
business  centre  of  the  metropolis,  just  as  the 
bells  of  St.  Peter's  Cathedral  were  chiming  one 
o'clock. 

After  seeing  Eocket  and  the  roan  colt  in  com- 
fortable stalls,  the  two  tired  men,  gradually 
losing  heart,  from  a  growing  consciousness  of  the 
futility  of  their  precipitate  mission,  bent  their 
steps  to  the  nearest  newspaper  office.  Mr.  Tad- 
more  procured  a  copy  of  the  Daily  News,  fresh 
from  the  press,  and,  standing  under  a  swinging  oil 
lamp,  scanned  the  pages  for  the  latest  accounts 
of  the  flood.  His  eye  soon  lit  upon  an  item 
stating  in  a  few  blunt  words  what  he  knew  too 
well,  namely,  that  a  frame  house  in  which  were 
an  old  man,  a  woman,  and  two  boys,  had  been 
swept  away  from  Forest  Glen  on  the  previous 
night. 

"  An  old  man,  a  woman,  and  two  boys ! "  re- 
peated the  bereft  father,  bitterly.  "  Two  boys  1 " 


1Y2  TOM  TAD 

how  lightly  the  reporter  penciled  that  down. 
"  Two  boys  1  One  boy !— My  little  Tom ! " 

The  rain  which  had  been  falling  intermittently 
during  the  night,  suddenly  began  to  pour  down 
with  violence,  a  cold  pitiless  deluge.  Eldon 
noticed  that  the  great  drops  struck  the  shiny 
flagstones,  like  liquid  bullets,  splashing  up  jets  of 
spray  from  the  shallow  pools  into  which  their 
volley  fell.  The  gutters  hissed  and  foamed ; 
the  catch-basins  overflowed,  spouting  and  gur- 
gling ;  the  flushed  streets  leading  southward  were 
changed  into  chafing  rapids. 

Through  the  hammering  rain  tramped  Tad- 
more  and  his  companion,  bound  for  the  ofiice  of 
the  Chief  of  Police.  They  accosted  a  stolid 
watchman  wearing  a  rubber  coat  and  peering 
out  from  under  the  visor  of  his  black  helmet. 
The  officer  paused  long  enough  to  hear  the 
dismal  story  of  the  house,  and  to  answer  one  or 
two  urgent  questions.  Then  with  a  shrug,  a 
swing  of  his  club,  and  a  not  unsympathetic  shake 
of  his  head,  he  moved  on  saying : 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  sir ;  how  the 
hell  do  you  suppose  a  policeman  can  stop  a  house 
from,  drifting  down  the  river  ?  " 

The  nocturnal  pilgrimage  to  police  headquar- 
ters elicited  no  encouraging  information.  The 
drowsy  lieutenant,  who  sat  in  a  large  swivel 
chair,  on  being  made  acquainted  with  the  nature 
of  their  trouble,  yawned  and  said : 


TO  THE  KESCUE  1T3 

"Well,  gents,  I  can't  advise  you.  Nothing 
can  be  done  that  I  know  of.  You  can't  send  out 
a  force  this  time  of  night,  especially  on  the 
water.  Besides,  the  house  must  have  drifted 
past  Cincinnati  by  this  time.  This  current  runs 
faster  than  you  can  ride.  You'd  best  go  to  the 
Western  Union  and  find  if  you  can  learn  any- 
thing there." 

Tadmore  groaned  in  spirit  as  he  pursued  fur- 
ther quest  from  square  to  square,  in  the  forlorn 
hope  of  gaining  some  reassuring  counsel  or  some 
faint  rumor  which  might  import  the  final  deliver- 
ance of  his  son.  How  utterly  weak  and  helpless 
he  felt  in  the  midst  of  the  slumbering  city ! 
Most  of  the  public  officials  whom  he  attempted 
to  see,  were  at  home  in  their  beds.  The  opera- 
tors in  the  telegraph  offices  answered  questions 
mechanically,  apparently  indifferent  to  the  pite- 
ous story  and  eager  requests,  to  which  they  lent 
a  weary  ear. 

Once  more  the  despondent  father  and  his  kins- 
man were  on  the  gloomy  street,  exhausted, 
aching  from  cold  and  wet,  but  no  nearer  the  ac- 
complishment of  their  desire,  than  when  they 
started  from  home. 

"  Ah,  Felix,  there  is  not  a  ray  of  hope ! 
Tom  is  drowned.  "We  shall  never  see  the  boy 
again." 

Eldon  put  his  hand  upon  his  friend's  shoulder. 

"  Tadmore,  don't  play  the  woman.    No  news 


1T4  TOM  TAD 

is  good  news.  I  shan't  give  up  until  I  know 
that  our  thousandth  chance  has  failed.  Keep 
a  stiff  upper  lip.  Our  long  ride  was  too  much 
for  you.  You  must  take  a  little  rest  or  you'll 
break  down.  Somewhere  along  this  row  I 
noticed  a  place  where  we  may  get  a  cup  of  hot 
coffee  ;  here  is  the  sign." 

He  pointed  to  a  transparency  on  which  Mr. 
Tadmore  read  the  words : 

LUNCH  BOOM. 

Open  all  Night. 
Meals  15c. 

They  entered  a  dingy,  narrow  room,  supplied 
with  a  few  small  tables  each  spread  with  oil- 
cloth and  set  with  plates,  salt  box  and  vinegar 
cruet.  On  a  lunch  counter  stood  a  battered 
coffee  urn  and  behind  this  was  a  broad  shelf  dis- 
playing ham-sandwiches,  a  crock  of  baked  beans 
and  a  segment  of  nondescript  pie.  In  the  rear 
of  the  "  restaurant,"  a  cannon  stove,  gray  from 
age,  showed  within  its  open  mouth  a  chunk  of 
coal  spluttering  feeble  blue  blazes  through  oozing 
tar. 

The  proprietor  of  the  resort,  a  fat  Irishman 
whose  left  arm  was  in  a  sling,  welcomed  his 
customers  cheerily,  kicked  the  stove  door  shut  to 
increase  the  draft,  and  shoved  one  of  the  tables 
nearer  to  the  fire. 


TO  THE  RESCUE  ITS 

"  A  bad  night,  surs.  That  stove  will  warm  ye 
fast  enough.  It  heats  up,  like  a  woman's  temper, 
and  heats  down  as  quick.  You  are  out  late, 
gintlemen.  It's  nearin'  mornin'." 

"  We  came  in,"  said  Eldon,  "  to  get  a  bite  to 
eat  and  a  cup  of  coffee.  Bring  us  what  you 
have." 

The  Irishman  brought  sandwiches,  baked 
beans,  and  pie ;  then  fetched  the  coffee,  horrible 
stuff,  nauseating  to  swallow  and  disgusting  in 
the  stomach.  Yet  the  worn-out  travelers,  to 
allay  headache  and  stimulate  exhausted  nerves, 
forced  themselves  to  sip  the  coffee  and  nibble 
the  sandwiches. 

"  Still  rainin'  and  risin',"  remarked  the  eating- 
house  keeper,  feeling  it  his  professional  duty  to 
be  sociable. 

"  Seventy  feet,"  continued  he,  "  is  purty  deep 
for  a  river  that  I  could  wade  across  last  Septem- 
ber. If  the  clerk  of  the  weather  don't  shut  up 
the  windys  of  heaven  soon,  we'll  have  to  build 
Noah's  arks.  That  minds  me  of  what  a  man 
from  Covington  towld  me  last  evenin'.  He  was 
com  in'  over  the  Suspinsion  Bridge,  and  he  saw 
some  queer  sights  on  the  river.  A  farmhouse 
came  drifting  down,  like  a  boat,  and  there  was  an 
old  nigger  a  settin'  on  the  roof  wavin'  his  arms 
and  hollerinV 

Mr.  Tadmore  put  down  his  cup  and  listened 
intently. 


176  TOM  TAD 

"Well?  "he  said. 

"  "Well,  sur,  the  house  wint  whirlin'  under  the 
bridge;  there  wasn't  time  to  turn  a  pancake; 
nothin'  was  to  be  done  for  the  old  black  fellow, 
and  the  divil  knows  what  became  of  'im." 

Felix  rose,  paid  for  the  refreshment,  and,  fol- 
lowed by  Mr.  Tadmore,  left  the  eating-room, 
glad  to  return  to  the  open  air.  The  raining  had 
ceased,  though  the  murky  clouds  continued  to 
lower.  The  deep  gloom  of  night  was  beginning 
to  give  place  to  the  struggling  gray  of  early 
morning.  The  noise  of  wheels  of  milk  wagons 
and  bakers'  vans,  announced  the  revival  of  the 
day's  routine.  People  were  seen  coming  and 
going  along  the  drenched  pavements,  or  unlock- 
ing the  doors  of  the  places  of  business. 

Mournfully  did  Eldon  greet  the  approaching 
day,  for  he  was  sick  at  heart  and  on  the  verge  of 
despair,  though  he  kept  up  a  show  of  cheerful- 
ness, to  prevent  the  total  collapse  of  his  brother's 
self-control.  He  proposed  walking  down  Vine 
Street  as  far  as  the  encroaching  high  water 
would  permit.  A  very  short  walk  southward 
from  Fourth  Street  brought  them  to  the  edge  of 
the  vast  expanse  of  muddy  river.  Thus  far  and 
no  farther  could  they  proceed  on  foot.  It  is  not 
possible  to  imagine  a  prospect  more  dismal  than 
that  which  lay  before  them.  In  the  haze  of  fog 
and  coal  smoke,  they  beheld,  instead  of  streets, 
dreary  canals,  lapping  against  brick  walls,  creep- 


TO  THE  RESCUE  177 

ing  all  around  houses,  crawling  in  at  upper  win- 
dows. The  melancholy  scene  was  suggestive 
only  of  sorrow,  destruction  and  death.  Tom 
Tadmore's  father,  touching  his  companion's  arm, 
turned  his  back  upon  the  scene  of  desolation  and, 
automatically  retracing  his  steps  to  Fourth 
Street,  indicated  by  a  gesture  his  desire  to  visit 
once  more  the  News  Building,  which  occupied  a 
conspicuous  corner  not  far  away.  The  pair, 
speaking  not  a  word,  but  each  lost  in  his  own 
doleful  thoughts,  forgetting  their  chilled  and  ex- 
hausted bodies  in  the  keener  misery  of  mind, 
walked  slowly  to  the  newspaper  office.  A  large 
bulletin  board  had  been  placed  in  front  of  the 
counting-room,  so  that  those  who  ran  might  read 
the  latest  despatches  relating  to  the  calamitous 
flood  in  which  all  were  interested.  A  slender 
young  man,  with  a  paste-pot  and  a  brush,  was  in 
the  act  of  pasting  a  large  sheet  of  manila  paper 
upon  the  board  at  the  moment  when  Tadmore 
and  Eldon  came  to  the  corner.  They  read  these 
words : 

SHOCKING  DISASTER! 

HORRIBLE  FATE  OF  A  FAMILY! 

Forest  Glen  Inundated. 

House  Swept  Away  in  the 

Mighty  Maelstrom. 
FOUR  PERSONS  DROWNED  I 


XXIY 
WASH  BAETON'S  LAST  VOYAGE 

A  CBY  of  terror  issued  from  Tom's  throat 
when  he  realized  that  he  was  a  castaway  on  a 
merciless  flood.  His  impulse  was  to  rush  to  the 
window  and  call  for  help.  But  his  voice  could 
not  be  heard  on  shore  over  the  noise  of  storm 
and  rushing  water,  and,  had  it  been  heard,  who 
would  heed  a  forlorn  voice  in  the  night  ? 

"  It's  of  no  use  to  yell,"  said  Sam  Noggle,  sus- 
tained by  the  self-possession  which  never  failed 
him.  "  It's  of  no  use  to  yell.  Why  don't  you 
light  the  lamp,  mother,  so  we  can  see  what  we 
are  about  ?  " 

The  yellow  gleam  of  the  light  showed  that 
Sam's  cheek  was  not  blanched,  nor  his  lip  tremu- 
lous. Tom's  pride  rallied,  and  he  summoned  up 
courage.  "Wash  Barton  observed  with  admira- 
tion the  conduct  of  the  boys ;  but  the  old  man 
was  much  disquieted  to  notice  that  Helen  Noggle, 
contrary  to  her  usual  habit,  manifested  abject 
fear.  Sam,  looking  at  his  mother,  was  more 
troubled  by  her  ghastly  features  than  by  the 
perils  of  the  flood. 

"Sit  down,  mother,"  he  said  gently.    "We 

178 


WASH  BARTON'S  LAST  VOYAGE     1Y9 

must  depend  on  you."  She  staggered  to  a  chair 
and  sank  upon  it,  bowing  her  face  upon  her 
knees. 

"  Don't  lose  heart,  Nelly  my  girl.  You  are 
generally  the  bravest  of  us  all.  Remember  I  am 
an  experienced  waterman,  and  know  the  tricks 
of  this  river.  Never  say  die.  The  chances  are 
that  this  craft  will  hold  together  many  an  hour, 
or  many  a  day,  for  that  matter.  I've  drifted 
down  to  New  Orleans  on  a  raft  not  to  compare 
with  this  for  comfort.  You  see  we  float  along 
safely  enough  now,  and  why  should  we  be  scared 
out  of  our  wits  ?  " 

"  Somebody  will  be  sure  to  see  us,"  said  Sam, 
in  the  same  strain  of  hope,  "  and  bring  us  off  in 
a  boat.  Or  if  the  worst  comes,  we  can  swim 
ashore  in  the  morning.  You  can  swim,  can't 
you,  Tom  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  can  swim  a  little,"  answered  Tom, 
making  a  strong  effort  to  be  as  tranquil  as  Sam 
appeared  to  be.  "  I  swam  across  Glen  Creek  last 
summer,  and  that's  about  fifty  feet  wide ;  but  I 
got  the  cramps." 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  pursued  Sam,  trying 
desperately  to  be  cheerful,  "  we  can't  wade  out. 
The  water  is  sixty  or  seventy  feet  deep  below  us. 
How  would  you  like  to  dive  down  to  the  bottom 
and  bring  up  a  bowlder  ?  " 

Helen  Noggle  dropped  her  hands  in  her  lap, 
slowly  raised  her  haggard  face,  and  fixed  her 


180  TOM  TAD 

bloodshot  eyes  on  her  son,  rolling  them  to  follow 
his  every  motion,  and  turning  her  head  to  keep 
him  in  view  when  he  walked  about. 

"  It  would  take  a  good  swimmer,"  said  Old 
Barton,  "  to  keep  his  head  above  water  in  such  a 
rough  current  as  this,  considering  how  cold  it  is, 
and  how  much  drift  and  ice  there  is." 

Mrs.  Noggle  shivered,  and  Sam  wrapped  a 
blanket  around  her  shoulders. 

"  If  we  get  safe  past  the  Dry  Docks  and  the 
bridges  at  Cincinnati,"  continued  Barton,  "  we've 
little  to  dread.  There  are  hundreds  of  brave 
fellows  to  rescue  us,  and  they  will  think  it  fun 
to  do  so.  But  there  is  a  right  smart  chance  of 
danger  from  the  Dry  Docks  and  from  the  piers 
of  Newport  Bridge.  But  never  cross  a  bridge 
till  you  come  to  it,  and  I  reckon  we'd  better  not 
strike  the  pier  till  we  come  to  it." 

"  Better  not  strike  it  at  all,  nor  think  of  it, 
gran'daddy.  "What  good  will  it  do  to  think  of 
it  ?  If  we  must  give  up  the  ship  I've  made  up 
my  mind  what  to  do.  I'll  swim  to  the  land  with 
mother,  and  you  must  do  the  best  you  can  to  tow 
Tom  ashore." 

A  grateful  smile  of  wonderful  sweetness  came 
over  Helen  Noggle's  face.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
had  snatched  away  a  mask  from  her  features 
and  revealed  a  countenance  of  radiant  beauty ; 
but  while  Sam  was  regarding  this  miraculous 
visage,  the  mask  covered  it  again ; — he  saw  a 


WASH  BAKTON'S  LAST  VOYAGE     181 

ghastly,  haggard  face,  and  bloodshot  eyes,  eyes 
riveted  on  him. 

"  I  am  glad  daddy  and  Mandy  are  not  here, 
anyhow.  The  fewer  passengers  the  better  in 
such  a  boat  as  this.  We  shan't  charge  you  for 
your  passage,  Tom." 

The  wind  had  risen,  and  was  blowing  fitfully 
up  stream,  and  a  heavy  gust  buffeted  the  house 
and  caused  it  to  tip  considerably  to  one  side. 

"  She's  top-heavy,  boys.  We've  too  much 
freight  on  the  upper  deck.  Best  dump  some  of 
the  furniture  into  the  hold,  or  throw  it  overboard. 
Here,  help  me  heave  this  stove  down  the  gang- 
way." 

The  boys  set  to  work  with  old  Wash  and  the 
stove  was  tumbled  down  the  stairs,  and  fell  witl 
an  ominous  splash  and  plunge  into  the  watery 
basement.  Other  articles  were  likewise  thrown 
down  to  the  lower  room.  Mr.  Barton  advised  a 
general  clearance  of  the  "  cabins,"  as  he  called 
the  apartments  above  stairs,  and  the  boys  even 
took  down  the  bedsteads  and  consigned  them  to 
the  "hold."  "Now,  shipmates,"  said  the  old 
voyager,  "  she  is  in  ballast  trim."  It  was  a  good 
thing  for  Tom  that  he  engaged  in  this  active 
work,  which  distracted  his  mind  temporarily 
from  awful  apprehensions.  But  when  every- 
thing that  the  room  contained,  excepting  the 
table,  the  chairs  and  the  bedding,  was  pitched 
down,  and  there  was  no  more  work  to  do,  he 


182  TOM  TAD 

naturally  gave  way  to  dreadful  thoughts.  His 
reason  told  him  there  was  scarcely  a  possibility 
that  the  frail,  shackling  frame  of  an  old  house, 
held  together  by  a  few  nails,  could  long  with- 
stand the  destructive  rage  of  wind  and  wave, 
even  should  it  escape  demolition  by  crashing 
against  some  obstacle.  Besides,  he  was  con- 
vinced that  Sam  had  no  real  hope,  and  he  as- 
cribed Old  Barton's  composure  not  to  assurance 
of  safety  but  to  contempt  of  danger.  Instinc- 
tive terror  swept  through  him,  like  a  chilling 
blast,  as  he  suddenly  realized  the  full  horror 
of  his  situation.  That  he  must  perish  seemed 
inevitable — must  drown  in  the  Ohio — must 
strangle  to  death  in  the  cold,  black  water,  and 
never  more  be  seen  or  heard  of.  The  faces  of 
the  dear  ones  at  home  rose  vividly  in  his  mind ; 
all  were  there — not  excepting  Fritz.  Even  the 
dog's  trustful  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him.  He 
heard  his  mother's  gentle  voice,  he  heard  the 
notes  of  "  Home,  Sweet,  Sweet  Home,"  played 
softly  on  the  piano  by  Sister  Han.  Vision  suc- 
ceeded vision  in  his  whirling  brain ;  the  sound  of 
weltering  eddies  and  swashing  waves  mixed  with 
far-away  voices  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Don't  be 
foolhardy,  my  son  !  Keep  away  from  the  river." 
Overpowered  by  remorse  and  dread,  the  lad  sank 
to  his  knees  in  paralyzing  despair. 

The  doomed  house  drifted  on.     How  fast  it 
was  going  who  could  tell  ?    How  long  it  had 


WASH  BAKTON'S  LAST  VOYAGE     183 

been  floating  none  of  its  inmates  could  say. 
They  had  lost  the  faculty  of  estimating  the  length 
of  an  hour.  It  seemed  to  Tom  that  an  eternity 
had  elapsed  since  the  dire  voyage  was  begun. 
He  silently  prayed  God  to  comfort  his  mother 
and  father,  and  strove  to  fix  his  hope  on  heaven. 

A  crash!  A  shock!  A  swirl!  A  confusion 
of  rushing  noises !  The  lamp  slides  from  the  up- 
tilted  table  and  falls  to  the  floor  shivered  to 
fragments,  and  all  is  dark !  No  one  uttered  a 
cry;  each  felt  that  the  end  had  come.  But  it 
was  not  so.  The  projecting  porch  of  the  house 
had  struck  a  pier  of  the  Newport  Bridge,  and 
was  torn  from  the  main  building,  causing  a  gen- 
eral loosening  of  timbers,  and  a  change  in  the 
centre  of  gravity  which  made  the  floor  dip  at  an 
angle  of  eight  or  ten  degrees.  Wash  Barton 
guessed  what  had  happened,  and,  on  groping  to 
the  window  and  looking  out,  he  was  confirmed 
in  his  conclusion. 

"  All  right,  boys !  That  was  Newport  Bridge ! 
Thank  your  lucky  stars  that  we  have  got  past  it, 
and  past  the  Dry  Docks.  We  are  opposite  Cin- 
cinnati. We  will  soon  swoop  under  the  great 
Suspension  Bridge.  No  danger  then,  or  now, 
unless  we  run  into  a  boat.  But  there  is  one  more 
pier  bridge  to  pass, — the  Southern  Kailroad 
Bridge.  If  we  miss  the  piers  there,  we  are  safe ! " 

"  Let's  holler  for  help,  gran'daddy,"  said  Sam, 
in  a  high  fever  of  excitement. 


184  TOM  TAD 

"Help!    Help!    Hallo!" 

"Help!  Help!  Ho!"  echoed  Tom.  Old 
Barton  also  joined  in  the  cry,  and  so  did  Helen 
Noggle,  and  the  four  continued  to  shout  and 
scream  while  their  rocking  prison  sped  down  the 
middle  of  the  river.  Many  heard  their  wild  hal- 
loos,  and,  as  the  hurrying  mass  of  wall  and  roof 
was  gliding  under  the  Suspension  Bridge,  two 
men  in  a  skiff  made  an  attempt  to  pull  alongside. 

"Help!    Help!    Help!" 

"  My  God !  Bill,  it's  a  house  with  people  in  it ! '' 
exclaimed  one  of  the  men  in  the  boat  to  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Let  'em  rip ! "  answered  the  other  in  a  gruff 
voice,  and  with  an  oath.  "  Look  out  for  number 
one!" 

"We  might  save  their  lives,  Bill.  Hear  the 
woman. screech ! " 

"  We've  got  to  save  our  own  bacon,  and  get 
away  from  the  cops.  Let  'em  rip,  I  say ! " 

"Help!    Help!    Help!" 

The  cry  came  faintly  over  the  water  from  the 
hoarse  throats  of  the  boys. 

The  doomed  house  drifted  on,  past  the  twink- 
ling lights,  past  the  threatening  piers  of  the 
lower  bridge,  past  Cincinnati,  past  many  a  farm 
and  many  a  lone  cottage,  until,  at  length  its  mo- 
tion was  suddenly  arrested  by  some  lodged  ob- 
struction. The  castaways,  though  unable  to  dis- 
cern what  stopped  them,  were  none  the  less 


WASH  BARTON'S  LAST  VOYAGE     185 

rejoiced  to  realize  that  they  no  longer  drifted, 
but  were  somehow  at  anchor,  albeit  their  ship 
was  sorely  tossed  and  shaken  by  the  embroiled 
element  that  still  heaved  and  grumbled  around 
and  beneath  it. 

"  I  told  you  we  would  come  through  all  right, 
boys.  "We've  got  into  some  sort  of  a  port.  All 
we've  to  do  is  to  keep  up  our  spirits  and  wait  till 
morning. — Where  are  you,  Nelly  ? — I  can  hardly 
see  my  hand  before  my  eyes  in  this  dungeon. 
But  I  think  I  saw  a  glimmer  of  light  away  off 
yonder.  Sam,  come  here;  can  you  make  out 
what  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  see  a  light,"  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Look,  Sam, 
there  it  shines,  like  a  candle." 

"That  must  be  in  Kentucky,"  said  Sam. 
"  Maybe  it  is  a  lamp  shining  from  some  window. 
Don't  you  wish  we  were  there  ?  Mother,  come 
and  see  the  light !  " 

Mrs.  Noggle  did  not  answer.  She  was  at  that 
moment  putting  to  her  lips  a  flask. 

"  Nelly,  is  anything  ailing  you,  child  ?  "  A 
prolonged  shriek  pierced  the  darkness  and 
appalled  Tom's  ears.  It  was  succeeded  by  an- 
other, and  another  still  more  terrific.  The  utter- 
ance of  three  such  violent  cries  seemed  to  exhaust 
the  woman's  strength,  for  after  the  effort  she  was 
heard  to  pant  like  one  outdone  in  a  race  for  life. 
The  old  man's  voice  when  he  next  spoke,  was 
husky  and  hollow. 


186  TOM  TAD 

"  She  has  the  delirium  again !  How  did  she 
come  by  liquor  at  such  a  time  ?  My  poor  Nelly ! 
My  pet !  My  little  beauty  ! — Sam !  Sam !  Sam  ! 
Listen  to  me !  Keep  away  from  whiskey  as  from 
hell-fire  and  damnation !  See  to  what  it  has 
brought  your  poor  mother,  my  darling  Nelly, 
my  pretty  innocent  girl ! "  The  old  man  dropped 
his  head  upon  Sam's  shoulder  and  gave  way  to 
sobs,  hearing  which,  the  insane  woman  mur- 
mured : 

"  Stop  crying,  Sam !  Sh  !  It's  not  your  fault ! 
"We  only  called  it  your  baby  because  you  took 
care  of  it.  No,  no,  no,  no !  the  rats  and  fishes 
shan't  have  it ! " 

Sam  disengaged  himself  from  his  grandfather's 
arms  and  went  to  his  mother,  who  was  attempt- 
ing to  rise. 

"  Mother !  sit  still ;  don't  try  to  get  up." 

He  placed  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  she, 
grasping  his  arm,  pulled  him  down  beside  her 
where  she  crouched  upon  the  floor. 

"  Hush !  Listen  !  Hear  them  plunging  and 
hissing  under  the  boat !  There  comes  a  gar  with 
red  eyes  and  a  long  tail  like  a  black  snake, 
crawling  up  —  crawling  up  —  crawling  up  I 
There's  another !  There's  a  thousand  all  wrig- 
gling and  hissing  !  Keep  them  off !  "  Shriek- 
ing as  she  had  done  before,  the  dipsomaniac 
struggled  to  her  feet  and  made  frantic  efforts  to 
break  away  from  Sam  who  called  aloud  : 


WASH  BARTON'S  LAST  VOYAGE     187 

"  Help  me  hold  her  !  She  will  jump  into  the 
river ! " 

"With  his  grandfather's  assistance,  Sam  suc- 
ceeded in  placing  the  wretched  woman  upon  a 
heap  of  bedding  which  had  been  cast  upon  the 
floor  when  the  bedsteads  were  taken  down.  The 
old  man  sat  down  on  one  side  of  his  daughter 
and  Sam  on  the  other,  and  each  held  one  of  her 
hands.  She  continued  to  rave  and  scream  inter- 
mittently, but  at  length  became  passive  and  lay 
quiescent.  Hoping  that  she  had  fallen  asleep, 
her  attendants  remained  silent,  and  Tom,  still 
standing  by  the  window  and  gazing  at  the  light 
on  the  Kentucky  shore,  heard  no  other  sound 
than  the  growl  and  swirl  of  the  water  which 
rushed  around  and  through  the  wreck.  The  rain 
had  ceased  but  the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale,  up 
stream.  In  a  lull  of  the  gust,  Mrs.  Noggle  was 
heard  to  murmur  incoherently  the  words,  "  Come ! 
Come!" 

"  What  does  she  say  ?  "  whispered  Sam. 

"  I  say  come — tell  father  to  come." 

"He  is  here,  mother.  I  am  with  you,  too, 
and  Tom  Tadmore, — you  remember  him." 

No  answer  came  from  the  unhappy  woman, 
the  deep  breathing  of  whose  weary  breast  in- 
dicated slumber.  But  after  a  brief  interval,  she 
again  started  up  with  a  wailing  cry  :  "  The  baby ! 
It's  sinking !  It's  sinking !  Let  me  go  !  I'll  dive 
to  the  bottom  and  bring  it  back !  Let  me  loose  I " 


188  TOM  TAD 

Helen  ^Toggle's  cries  and  struggles,  except  in 
occasional  spells  of  exhaustion,  were  thus  re- 
peated throughout  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

When  morning  dawned,  and  objects  began  to 
show  their  dim  outlines  through  the  mist,  it  was 
discovered  that  a  great  part  of  the  house  had 
been  pounded  to  pieces  by  the  flood,  and  what 
remained  was  a  mere  rickety  shell  which  shook 
and  swayed  in  the  wind,  threatening  to  break 
away  at  any  moment  from  the  grapnelling  limbs 
of  a  gigantic  sycamore  tree,  by  which  it  had 
been  stopped  in  its  fateful  course.  Lodged  in  a 
branch  of  the  same  tree  were  two  objects  which 
had  drifted  together,  a  wheelbarrow  and  an 
empty  coffin.  All  this  the  boys  observed  with 
dismay,  but  their  spirits  revived  when,  straining 
anxious  eyes  towards  the  Kentucky  hills,  they 
made  out  the  shape  of  a  human  habitation. 
They  hoped  that  some  inmate  of  that  shadowy 
house  might  see  their  plight  and  come  to  their 
rescue.  Wash  Barton  would  not  desert  his  post 
beside  his  daughter,  but  the  fatigue  and  care  of 
his  long  watch  had  so  worn  his  aged  body  that, 
in  spite  of  his  will,  he  dropped  into  a  doze  while 
he  sat  with  Kelly's  hand  in  his. 

Sam  fastened  to  a  stick  a  piece  of  muslin  torn 
from  a  sheet,  and  this  he  waved  constantly  to  at- 
tract attention  from  the  shore,  should  any  one  be 
stirring.  What  words  can  convey  an  idea  of 
his  emotions  when  he  saw  or  fancied  he  saw  an 


WASH  BARTON'S  LAST  VOYAGE     189 

answering  signal  flutter  from  the  top  of  the 
house  on  the  hill !  Tears  gushed  to  his  eyes  and 
blinded  him,  and  his  heart  throbbed  so  fast  that 
he  could  only  gasp  out  the  words,  "  Tom,  look 
there  ! "  Tom  saw  the  signal,  and,  throwing  his 
arms  about  Sam,  sobbed  joyously,  "  They  see  us ! 
They  will  save  us ! " 

Before  the  boys  had  sufficiently  recovered  self- 
possession  to  know  what  next  to  do  or  say, 
they  heard  a  halloo  and  beheld  a  man  running 
down  to  the  river  shore.  They  saw  him  get  into 
a  boat  and  pull  towards  them,  up  stream,  against 
the  strong  current.  What  a  shout  they  raised ! 
Wash  Barton  started  from  his  nodding  sleep,  and 
came  to  the  window. 

"  See,  gran'daddy  !  a  boat  1  The  man  is  com- 
ing to  save  us ! " 

"I  told  you  all  along  that  it  would  be  so. 
I'll  trust  myself  on  the  Ohio  River  in  a  soup 
plate." 

A  creaking  noise  and  a  dull  crash  of  wet  plas- 
ter falling  at  his  feet  interrupted  Barton's  cheery 
words. 

"  The  floor  is  coming  apart !  "  screamed  Tom. 
"  The  house  is  splitting  to  pieces ! " 

A  heavy  log  had  driven  against  the  wreck  and 
knocked  away  the  principal  braces  that  held  it 
together.  One  side  of  the  roof  came  down,  and 
the  water  swept  over  the  broken  floor.  Helen 
Noggle,  aroused  by  this  awful  catastrophe,  sat 


190  TOM  TAD 

up ;  the  foam  flew  around  her,  blown  from  the 
invading  waves. 

"The  baby!  Sam's  baby!  I'll  bring  it 
back ! " 

"Mother!  Mother!  Hold  fast  to  the  roof! 
See !  there's  a  boat  coming  to  save  us !  " 

The  distracted  woman  gave  no  heed  to  her 
son's  words.  "With  the  swiftness  of  a  leopard 
she  sprang  away  and  plunged  into  the  river. 
Sam  instantly  jumped  after  her. 

"Nelly!  oh  my  child!" 

With  this  broken  cry  of  anguish  "Wash  Barton 
leapt  headlong  after  his  daughter  whom  he  vainly 
hoped  to  save.  He  was  swallowed  from  sight, 
but,  a  moment  later,  the  man's  gray  head  ap- 
peared above  the  surface,  and  Sam,  buffeting  the 
surge,  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  mother's  face 
veiled  in  the  frothing  waves.  He  saw  her  arms 
clasp  the  neck  of  her  father,  and  the  two  sank 
and  were  never  more  seen  by  human  eye. 

The  wreck  swung  loose  from  the  sycamore 
tree ;  the  tumultuous  current,  heaped  in  chopping 
waves  by  the  wind,  bore  away  the  roof  and  scat- 
tered timbers ; — Tom  was  within  the  jaws  of  the 
flood.  The  skiff  from  the  Kentucky  shore  had 
approached  the  tree,  and  the  man  who  was  row- 
ing strained  every  nerve  and  muscle. — In  vain ! 
He  cannot  rescue  the  drowning  boys. — God  pity 
them ! 

But  see!    What  craft  rides  the  rough  river, 


FRIT/.    SKI/.KI)    SAM  S    ARM. 


WASH  BAKTON'S  LAST  VOYAGE     191 

tossing  and  pitching  like  some  unwieldy  box? 
The  frail  sco\v  bears  a  man  with  shaggy  head, 
and  the  oars  are  in  his  knotty  hands.  His  boat 
leaps  and  plunges  down  the  turbulent  stream, — 
it  spins  around  in  the  whirling  vortex  caused  by 
the  ruin  of  the  house.  The  man  with  the  shaggy 
head  reaches  out  his  knotty  hands  and  drags  up 
from  the  hissing  water  Tom  Tadmore,  numb 
with  cold  and  half  strangled.  "Gott  in  Him- 
mel,"  says  Fritz  Haberkorn,  "  I  pring  tzu  hause 
unser  leetle  poy ! "  At  that  instant  Sam  Nog- 
gle's  blue  hand  shot  above  the  water  and  clutched 
the  edge  of  the  providential  Jo-boat.  Fritz 
seized  Sam's  arm  and  was  drawing  the  shivering 
boy  into  his  craft  when  a  staunch  skiff  hove 
alongside,  and  a  cheerful  voice  said : 

"  Let  me  have  hold  of  one.  Hold  your  ship 
steady,  colonel,  and  I'll  lift  the  other  boy  into  my 
long-boat. — Now  then !  Steady  ! — Jump  in  your- 
self, sir,  and  take  your  seat  there  in  the  stern." 

Fritz  did  as  directed,  and  the  floundering  scow 
in  which  he  had  voyaged  from  Forest  Glen 
drifted  away  empty  in  company  with  a  wheel- 
barrow and  a  coffin. 


XXV 

HOME  AGAIN 

MAJOR  CASSIUS  YERNON,  the  stalwart  Ken- 
tuckian  whose  timely  efforts  came  to  the  rescue 
of  the  boys  and  of  their  heroic  saviour,  plied  his 
strong  oars  steadily  and  soon  succeeded  in  bring- 
ing the  skiff  to  shore  near  a  large,  old-fashioned 
country  mansion.  Two  women  and  a  group  of 
children  stood  waiting,  in  anxious  suspense,  to 
receive  whomever  the  Major  should  chance  to 
bring  to  land.  By  the  aid  of  the  women,  the 
half-drowned  boys  were  carried  to  the  house 
where  their  vitality  was  restored  by  every  art 
known  to  domestic  nursing  and  medication. 

Fritz  Haberkorn  was  in  almost  as  much  need 
of  warmth  and  stimulation  as  were  Tom  and 
Sam,  nor  were  his  wants  neglected.  Major  Yer- 
non,  having  seen  the  boys  hopefully  reviving 
under  the  ministration  of  his  wife  and  the  house- 
maid, hastily  returned  to  the  uncomplaining 
German,  bearing  in  hand  a  big  decanter  taken 
from  the  sideboard. 

"  Here  !  "  said  he,  pouring  into  a  tumbler  a 
stream  so  copious  that  the  liquor  overflowed, 
spilling  upon  the  parlor  carpet.  "Drink  it 

192 


HOME  AGAIN  193 

down!  do  you  good;  the  best  old  Bourbon 
Whiskey  in  God's  universe." 

Fritz,  though  he  needed  no  urging,  did  not  for- 
get the  demands  of  courtesy.  Before  putting  the 
goblet  to  his  bearded  lips,  he  made  a  military 
salute :  "  Here  iss  your  goot  healt  unt  your  lady. 
By  golly  !  dot  Schnapps  schmect  goot !  A  leetle 
not  hurt  dose  poy,  eh  ?  " 

Major  Vernon  immediately  sent  a  messenger 
to  the  nearest  telegraph  office  with  despatches  to 
Tom's  father  and  also  to  the  Cincinnati  press, 
giving  brief  information  that  the  boys  were  safe, 
and  that  Washington  Barton  and  Mrs.  Noggle 
had  herished  in  the  flood. 

Fritz  was  impatient  to  return  to  Forest  Glen 
and  restore  Tom  to  the  home  folks,  as  he  had 
pledged  Uncle  Felix  that  he  would  do  so ;  and 
though  Major  Vernon  assured  him  over  and 
over  again  that  a  telegram  would  relieve  the 
anxiety  of  the  Tadmores,  the  German  had 
doubts. 

"  By  golly,  Fritz  vas  der  beste  telegraph,  eh 
Tom  ?  Not  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  not  stay  over  with  us  until 
to-morrow,  and  the  boys  are  able  to  travel,  there 
is  a  relief  boat  going  up  and  I  will  pilot  you  to 
Cincinnati." 

This  proposition  was  accepted  gratefully.  A 
small  government  transport  ascended  the  river 
that  day  and  upon  this  the  two  men  took  pan- 


194  TOM  TAD 

sage,  each  in  charge  of  a  boy, — the  Major  took 
care  of  Sam,  and  Fritz  rarely  permitted  Tom's 
hand  to  escape  from  his  own  jealous  grip.  The 
government  boat  landed  its  passengers  on  a 
floating  dock  from  which  they  were  conveyed  in 
a  broad-bottomed-yawl  to  solid  footing,  on  the 
paving  stones  of  Yine  Street,  near  the  Burnet 
House. 

Thomas  Tadmore,  senior,  and  Dr.  Felix  Eldon, 
waiting  on  the  sidewalk,  saw  the  yawl  coming  up 
the  street,  like  a  gondola  in  Yenice.  They  swal- 
lowed their  thumping  hearts  and  tried  to  look 
dignified  and  undemonstrative.  Now  the  fine 
art  of  affecting  a  nonchalant  air,  to  hide  strong 
emotion,  often  unattainable  by  the  wise  and 
great,  may  be  mastered  by  babes  and  sucklings. 
Tom  out-faced  his  father  and  his  uncle,  at  their 
own  false  game.  He  jumped  out  of  the  boat 
with  a  look  of  unconcern,  as  if  nothing  out  of 
the  ordinary  had  occurred,  and  sang  out,  in  a 
chipper  tone, 

"  Hello,  pop,  is  that  you  ?    Hey,  Uncle  Felix  1 " 

"  You  ought  to  be  thrashed ! "  responded  pop, 

with  grim  tenderness.  "  Your  mother "  The 

paternal  voice  broke  and  old  Fritz  relieved  him- 
self of  a  Teutonic  gutteral. 

On  his  arrival  at  home,  the  lost  lamb  who  had 
been  found  by  Fritz,  abandoned  every  pretense 
of  indifference  when  his  mother  hugged  him  in 
fond  arms,  and  he  heard  his  sister  sobbing  with 


HOME  AGAIN  195 

hysterical  joy.  Haberkorn  knuckling  rainy  eyes, 
rumbled : 

"  Don't  I  pring  him,  by  golly,  shust  vot  I  told  ?  " 

Tom  twisted  himself  out  of  his  mother's  ex- 
clusive embrace. 

"  Fritz  got  me  by  the  hair  and  pulled  me  out. 
Guess  he  was  mad  at  me.  He  wanted  me  back  here 
to  help  him  do  the  work  and  to  talk  German  with." 

Uncle  Felix  laughed  in  a  lachrymal  fashion. 
"  After  all,"  said  he,  "  don't  you  forget  we  are 
indebted  to  Squinty  Kunkle  for  Tom's  life; 
Squinty  proclaimed  aloud  in  church  that  the 
scamp  had  drifted  away." 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  asked  Tom  and  his  mother 
in  the  same  breath. 

Felix  gave  the  particulars  of  Squinty's  appear- 
ance at  the  concert.  Fritz  listened  with  open 
ears,  eyes  and  mouth. 

"  By  golly,"  said  he, "  I  vish  dot  leetle  Shquinty 
Gosh  vas  live  somevare." 

"With  characteristic  resignation,  Peter  Noggle 
received  the  intelligence  that  his  wife  and  father- 
in-law  were  drowned.  The  dismal  news  spread 
about  the  village  and  Peter  heard  it  before  Sam 
and  Tom  had  returned.  Uncle  Felix  called  on 
the  widower  to  talk  over  plans  for  the  care  of 
Sam  and  Mandy. 

"  I  don't  reckon,  probably,  we  could  git  along 
without  Sam,"  complained  the  bereaved  philoso- 
pher. "  Mandy  is  poorly,  and  I'm  weakish  about 


196  TOM  TAD 

the  chist,  this  damp  spell,  and  now  Washington 
he's  not  here  to  do  the  chores."  Here  Peter 
sniffled. 

"  But,  Mr.  Noggle,  you  ought  to  be  willing  to 
do  the  best  you  can  by  your  son.  Major  Vernon 
will  give  him  a  fine  start  in  life." 

"  Ya-a-a-s  ;  but  seems  like  Sam  ort  to  stick  by 
us ;  or  maybe  not.  It's  all  this-a-way,  or  that-a- 
way,  as  you  might  say,  and  no  telling  how  anything 
might  turn  out  in  the  long  run,  Dr.  Eldon,  as  you 
kin  see  yourself.  Dear  me,  dear  me ;  what  time 
mought  it  be  by  your  Tratch  ?  " 

Felix  felt  like  pulverizing  toggle  for  this  in- 
opportune question.  The  imperturbable  mourner 
went  on  in  his  maundering  monotone,  "And 
there's  to  be  no  buryin',  they  tell  me,  for  the 
corpses  didn't  come  up.  I'd  a  like  to  have  saw 
her  laid  out,  for  Helen  was  a  spry  woman.  And 
he  was  an  able-bodied  man.  This  flood's  a  heavy 
slam  on  me." 

After  the  high  water  went  down,  temporary 
quarters  were  found  for  the  Noggles,  in  a  tene- 
ment near  the  lumber-yard.  Sam  found  em- 
ployment in  the  Buckeye  Planing  Mill;  Mandy 
helped  her  father  keep  house ;  Peter,  habitually 
shirking  domestic  responsibility,  spent  most  of 
his  time  fishing  or  polishing  mussel  shells,  by 
which  precarious  industries  he  occasionally  earned 
as  much  as  four  "bits"  in  twenty-four  hours. 
The  income  sufficed  to  feed  his  corncob  pipe. 


XXVI 

SWEET  GIBL  GEADUATES 

SPRING  slipped  away  and  the  school  year 
reached  its  terminus.  Every  preparation  had 
been  made  for  the  graduating  exercises  which 
took  place  early  in  June.  The  senior  class  of  the 
Forest  Glen  High  School  consisted  of  eight  girls 
and  one  boy. 

With  what  pride  and  pleasure  did  the  honored 
nine  wear  the  class  pin  and  sport  the  class  colors, 
a  rosette  of  narrow  ribbon,  purple  and  gold! 
What  swelling  emotion  tightened  their  young 
bosoms  when  first  they  saw  the  little  folios  of 
cardboard  bearing  on  the  front  page  the  words : 

COMMENCEMENT 

Forest  Glen  High  School 

at 

Boomer* s  Opera  Hall 
8  o'clock  P.  M. 

The  second  page  displayed,  in  large  gilt  letters, 
the  names  of  the  graduates :  Miss  Cornelia  Gen- 
evieve  Atkinson,  Miss  Blanchie  Snyder  Everton 

197 


198  TOM  TAD 

Bopp,  Miss  Minnie  Culpepper,  and  so  on  to  the 
last  name,  Mr.  Albert  St.  Clair  Blumas.  The 
roster  was  headed, 

CLASS  OF  1884. 

The  third  page  presented  the  order  of  exercises, 
comprising  prayer,  music,  essays,  orations,  pre- 
sentation of  diplomas  and  an  address  by  Hon. 
Philander  Borewell.  The  last  tablet  of  the  pro- 
gram was  enriched  with  the  Class  Song,  com- 
posed by  Miss  Sadie  Smythe,  and  set  to  music  by 
Herr  Von  Schlag. 

An  hour  before  the  time  announced  for  the 
ceremonies  to  begin,  Boomer's  was  crowded  to 
its  utmost  capacity.  Besides  the  kinfolk  and  ac- 
quaintances of  the  graduates,  many  "  friends  of 
education"  were  present,  from  the  village  and 
its  vicinity.  Most  of  these  had  received  en- 
graved cards  of  special  invitation,  but  not  a  few 
less  favored  citizens,  jealous  of  their  democratic 
rights,  ignoring  class  distinction,  managed  to 
press  into  the  very  choicest  seats,  in  spite  of  the 
vociferous  protests  of  dapper  ushers  with  rose- 
buds in  their  buttonholes.  Among  those  neg- 
lected in  the  distribution  of  complimentary 
tickets,  was  Barclay  Snooks  who,  nevertheless, 
scrouged  through  the  throng  at  the  door  and 
elbowed  his  way  to  a  choice  sitting.  Squinty 
Kunkle  timidly  slipped  in  and  squeezed  himself 
close  in  a  corner  of  the  hall  where  he  looked  as 


SWEET  GIRL  GRADUATES         199 

flat  and  motionless  as  the  outline  figure  of  a 
satyr  in  the  wall-paper  behind  him. 

The  annual  commencement  was  an  affair  to 
which  almost  every  family  in  the  school  district 
looked  forward  with  the  pride  of  personal  and 
tax-paying  interest.  Society  regarded  the  event 
as  an  amateur  entertainment  of  elevated  charac- 
ter, free  to  all  classes;  and  all  classes  availed 
themselves  of  their  inalienable  rights.  The 
"  people  "  came  out  in  full  force  and  they  were 
enthusiastically  happy. 

What  a  murmuring  chorus  of  amiable  talk ! 
What  a  fluttering  of  fans !  and,. dear  me !  what  a 
craning  of  necks !  what  a  rising  and  bowing  near 
the  front  of  the  auditorium  when  Mrs.  Blumas 
and  Mrs.  Bogus,  sailing  down  the  middle  aisle, 
followed  by  their  distinguished  husbands,  the 
Doctor  and  the  Judge,  rustled  to  their  reserved 
chairs  over  which  three  ushers  had  been  stand- 
ing guard.  Before  taking  his  seat,  the  Judge 
turned  his  ample  face  toward  the  audience  and 
stood  for  several  seconds,  surveying  the  living 
scene  with  grave  and  lofty  approval. 

The  Blumases  and  the  Boguses  having  arrived, 
there  was  no  necessity  for  further  delay,  and  all 
eyes  were  now  fixed  on  the  stage.  Never  be- 
fore, in  the  recollection  of  the  oldest  commence- 
ment-goer in  Forest  Glen,  had  the  rostrum  and 
the  scenery  environing  it,  presented  so  charming 
a  spectacle.  The  potted  palms,  the  flags,  the 


200  TOM  TAD 

hangings,  the  class-motto:  LABOR  OMNI  A 
VINCIT,  done  in  great  cardboard  capitals 
covered  with  arbor  vitae,  looked  just  splendid  in 
the  light  of  a  dozen  gas  jets  reinforced  by  feebler 
rays  from  a  line  of  oil  lamps  ranged  footlight- 
wise  along  the  front  of  the  stage.  Such  was  the 
brilliant  setting  for  the  academic  performance ; 
but  O,  you  should  have  beheld  the  living  actors 
to  whom  all  the  decorations  served  but  as  a  foil ! 
The  audience  thrilled  like  one  great  heart  when, 
to  slow  march  music  timed  on  a  square  piano  by 
Herr  Von  Schlag,  the  twice  four  graceful  girls 
and  the  solitary  gawky  boy  came  filing  in  from 
a  side  room  and  took  possession  of  the  numbered 
chairs  allotted  to  them.  The  pageant  was  hailed 
with  continuous  clapping  of  hands  and  stamping 
of  boys'  feet,  emphasized  by  a  few  cat-calls  of 
emphatic  indorsement.  Before  Albert  St.  Glair 
Blumas  could  find  his  assigned  seat,  the  "  Fac- 
ulty," a  solemn  procession,  moved  upon  the 
platform,  headed  by  Principal  Gadmeter,  con- 
voying Rev.  Joshua  Ennydox  and  Hon.  Phi- 
lander Borewell.  The  rear  of  the  column  was 
brought  up  by  Professor  Ripantare  who  escorted 
Miss  Crinkler.  There  being  no  chair  left  unoc- 
cupied, the  Professor  balanced  himself  upon  the 
piano  stool  where  he  posed  uncomfortably,  and 
gloomed  like  an  embarrassed  Hamlet. 

After  nodding  and  mumbling  aside,  first  to 
the  Honorable  and  then  to  the  Reverend,  the 


SWEET  GIRL  GRADUATES         201 

Principal  arose,  threw  back  his  head,  waved  his 
hand,  and  announced  that  we  would  now  listen 
to  the  exercises  of  the  evening  as  indicated  on 
the  program  in  our  hands.  Before  proceeding, 
however,  with  the  formal  exercises,  he  deemed  it 
his  duty  to  say  a  few  words.  Words  came  very 
readily  to  Josephus  Gadmeter;  he  spoke  with 
the  I-go-on-forever  fluency  of  Tennyson's  brook. 
The  audience,  though  good-natured  to  a  degree, 
began  to  show  symptoms  of  impatience  which 
the  speaker  mistook  for  applause,  but  when  a 
falsetto  voice,  not  unfamiliar  to  the  orator,  cried 
out  "  Time  I "  provoking  a  ripple  of  laughter,  the 
Principal,  in  some  confusion  and  much  wrath, 
broke  off  abruptly  and  took  his  seat.  Judge 
Bogus  instantly  stood  up,  frowning  official  re- 
buke upon  everybody,  and  there  is  no  telling 
what  judicial  charge  he  might  have  delivered 
had  not  his  wife,  twitching  at  his  coat-tails, 
wisely  whispered  him  down.  And  now,  Mr. 
Gadmeter,  half-rising,  made  a  nervous  gesture  in 
the  direction  of  Preacher  Ennydox,  who  tiptoed 
forward  at  the  signal  and  recited  a  very  pretty 
and  solemn  discourse  in  the  form  of  prayer,  giv- 
ing the  Almighty  a  deal  of  gratuitous  advice 
about  education. 

The  piano  music  which  followed  the  invoca- 
tion brought  general  relief  and  many  of  the 
auditors  joined  in  buzzing  conversation  to  the  in- 
finite disgust  of  Herr  Von  Schlag  who  scowled 


202  TOM  TAD 

right  and  left  and  shook  his  maestro  locks  while 
he  belabored  the  unoffending  keys. 

"  What  a  shame ! "  expostulated  Mrs.  Bogus, 
"  what  a  shame  that  the  parents  of  these  young 
people  permit  their  children  to  behave  with  such 
discourtesy  to  an  artist  who  can  play  like  that ! " 

Mrs.  Blumas  nodded  her  agreement,  though 
she  admitted,  under  her  breath,  that  she  herself 
didn't  really  enjoy  classical  music;  it  was  so 
heavy.  For  her  part,  give  her  "Monastery 
Bells,"  or  "  The  Battle  of  Waterloo." 

The  graduating  essays  were  not  remarkable 
for  simplicity  or  coherence,  but  they  gave  evi- 
dence that  the  writers  were  "  in  touch  "  with  the 
encyclopedia  and  were  surprisingly  apt  at  quota- 
tion, drawing  largely  upon  Emerson,  Carlyle  and 
Plato.  What  these  rhetorical  efforts  lacked  in 
pith  and  sincerity  was  made  up  for  by  a  super- 
abundance of  ornamental  words.  It  was  not  the 
fault  of  the  young  folks  that  they  followed  the 
advice  of  their  elders,  imitated  their  predecessors, 
and  studied  to  be  artificial. 

Every  sensible  person  in  Boomer's  Hall — and 
most  people  have  good  common  sense, — knew 
well  enough  that  the  eight  pretty  girls  and  the 
one  self-conscious  boy,  were  innocent  victims  of 
a  persistent  convention,  and  that  their  essays  and 
orations  ought  not  to  be  taken  seriously  as  any 
measure  of  real  intelligence  or  power,  but  merely 
as  "  graduation  exercises,"  cut  according  to  es- 


SWEET  GIRL  GRADUATES         203 

tablished  fashion,  and  just  as  essential  to  pro- 
priety  as  are  the  two  surviving  buttons  on  a 
man's  coat-tail. 

The  Hon.  Philander  Bore  well's  address, 
abounding  in  anecdotes  and  trite  generalizations, 
was  cautiously  conservative  and  piously  patriotic. 
Having  concluded  his  discourse  with  sentences 
of  counsel  and  exhortation  to  the  class,  the  great 
man  conferred  the  diplomas  ceremoniously,  and 
closed  the  solemnity  by  shaking  hands  with  the 
breathless  nine,  beginning  with  the  valedictorian 
and  finishing  with  Albert  Blumas. 

The  last  musical  number  was  played,  the  bene- 
diction was  pronounced  and  the  exercises  were 
over.  The  unanimous  verdict  of  the  audience 
declared  the  commencement  to  be  the  "  nicest " 
the  High  School  of  Forest  Glen  had  ever  "  got- 
ten up." 

On  the  day  after  the  commencement,  Tom 
scribbled  a  long  confidential  letter,  to  his  Cousin 
Frank  in  St.  Louis.  So  full  was  the  writer's 
memory  and  imagination,  that  he  unburthened 
himself  impetuously,  letting  his  words  flow  along 
the  channel  of  "least  resistance."  In  the  head- 
long hurry  of  composition,  he  gave  little  heed  to 
rules  of  any  kind,  but,  like  Mark  Antony,  only 
spoke  right  on. 

"We  had  a  big  time  last  Wensday  night  at 
Boomer's  Hall  where  my  sister  Hannah  and  a 
squad  of  elite  other  girls  from  the  best  families 


204:  TOM  TAD 

took  their  graduation  exercises  being  well  lit  up 
and  much  crowded  with  gas  light  and  floral  de- 
signs. Pa  he  had  ordered  up  a  spring  wagon 
load  of  flowers  made  up  in  ships  and  baskets  and 
all  sorts  with  slithers  of  Marshall  Kneel  roses 
and  Smile  axes  and  wire  stems  to  be  sent  up  to 
the  stage  for  a  reward  of  merit  to  Han  when  she 
got  through.  There  is  so  much  to  say  that  I 
cant  tell  which  first  nor  fast  enough  but  just  as 
it  comes  back  to  my  mind,  but  anyhow  sooner  or 
later  Claude  Rockingham  also  he  sent  a  beaukay 
too  with  his  card  tied  on  to  Han  with  his  com- 
pliments. But  there  was  roses  and  pinks  whole 
sail  for  all  the  ballance  of  the  sweet  girl  gradu- 
ates as  Han  calls  herself  and  Claude  said  after- 
wards he  was  disgusted  because  his  beaukay  was 
small  potatoes  beside  the  magnificent  display  of 
exoteric  hot  house  vegitation  some  had.  You 
couldn't  hardly  tell  which  was  flowers  and  which 
was  commencers  for  all  them  diplomatists  and 
specially  the  Gush  girls  Amy  in  particular  was 
dressed  up  mostly  in  bunches  of  roses  and  had  so 
much  culer  on  her  face  that  I  said  she  was  a  piny 
and  made  Charley  Blogson  bust  out. 

"  Well  Sir  Frank  the  hall  was  full  to  stuffoca- 
tion  and  the  platform  was  so  thick  you  couldn't 
see  the  piano,  well  old  Gadmeter  he  made  the 
first  brake  he  steps  out  a  smiling  with  his  pro- 
grammme  in  his  hand  and  spoke  about  immortal 
soles  and  how  all  these  young  ladies  would  now 


SWEET  GIKL  GRADUATES         205 

orate  their  own  orations  composed  entirely  out 
of  their  own  heads  and  own  hearts  without  any 
help  or  aid  or  any  touching  up  by  nobody  what- 
ever that  had  any  education. 

"  But  I  know  that  Sister  Han's  Peace  had  of 
been  submitted  to  Professor  Snipson  the  litery 
teacher  for  to  look  over  and  he  marked  it  with 
red  ink  so  much  that  Han  cried  and  Uncle  Felix 
and  mother  said  Snipsie  had  clean  took  the  sense 
all  out  of  Han's  Peace.  I  thought  so  too.  her 
Peace  was  about  Good  English  but  he  changed 
the  heading  so  as  to  read  Appropriate  Methods 
of  Employing  the  Vernacular  in  Written  Ex- 
pression. 

"But  I  must  drive  on.  As  I  said  old  Gad- 
meter  made  a  long  obituary  to  begin  to  start  the 
commencement  and  after  he  had  strung  it  out 
about  a  mile  I  got  tired  and  hollered  time  and 
made  Judge  Bogus  mad  as  a  Mandril. 

"  Well  then  next  came  something  else  lets  see, 
yes  our  new  minister  prayed  a  splendid  benedic- 
tionary  and  then  Hair  Yon  Slog  came  forward 
dressed  in  a  white  shirt  bosom  and  gloves  and 
rended  a  Nockturnal  Fantazee  in  nine  movements 
by  himself  which  made  me  that  sleepy  I  purty 
near  tumbled  off  of  the  seat  and  Mrs.  Bogus 
looked  round  at  me  savage. 

"  then  came  two  private  pupils  of  Hair  Yon 
Slog  fixed  up  awful  fine  with  corsages  and  all 
that  and  moved  on  to  the  piano  works  and  exe- 


206  TOM  TAD 

cuted  a  duet  for  two  with  a  flute  obligation  for 
one  mouth  only  by  Claude  Kockingham  Doc 
Blumases  nephieu.  In  about  a  month  the  execu- 
tioners quit  but  Doctor  Blumas  he  kept  hammer- 
ing on  the  floor  with  his  cane  for  an  oncore 
until  old  Gadmeter  didnt  know  what  to  do  and 
pushed  Al  Blumas  into  the  ring  to  orate,  Al  is 
the  only  boy  in  the  Grade  and  feels  big  but  he  is 
a  slimleg  Nancy  with  soft  mussel  and  runs  after 
Sadie  Smithe.  His  theseus  was  on  American 
Institutions  all  about  railroads  telegraphs  and 
success  in  life,  when  he  pulled  up  and  sat  down 
Judge  Bogus  and  his  wife  kept  on  clapping  hands 
like  an  idiot  and  Doc  Blumas  he  just  grinned  for 
he  is  Albert's  daddy. 

"  Then  came  a  solo  for  one  voice  by  Miss  Sadie 
Smithe  called  Ah !  Oh !  I  long  to  be  longing, 
with  a  good  many  thrills  in  it.  "We  boys 
stamped  for  her  oncore  and  she  came  out  again 
and  sang  Alas  the  days  of  Yore  my  love !  She 
looked  awful  pretty  ! ! 

"  I  can't  take  time  by  the  fetlock  to  tell  you 
near  all  but  I  will  say  right  here  Frank  that 
every  one  of  the  eight  girls  looked  awful  pretty 
and  Han  if  she  is  my  own  sister  I  will  say  can- 
didly she  was  the  best  looking  of  the  batch  and 
didnt  wear  half  so  much  juels  and  lace  as  some 
did  but  when  she  got  up  there  so  shy  and  scared 
like  and  began  to  preach  off  her  essay  with  her 
music-box  voice  blamed  if  it  didn't  make  me  cry. 


20T 

"  You  ought  to  heard  Amy  Gush  elocute  her 
perduction.  She  takes  lessons  in  vocal  Deliver- 
ance. Her  peace  was  about  ^Esthetic  Culture 
of  the  Kennaisance.  I  copied  the  name  off  the 
Programmeme.  Mrs  Bogus  says  Amy's  peace 
was  lovely  but  mother  and  me  couldn't  catch  on 
to  it  but  Amy  did  look  awful  pretty  I  will 
say  so  even  if  she  hasn't  got  half  sense. 

"  The  valediction  speech  was  the  best  of  the 
shooting  match  by  a  big  blonde  senior  of 
the  brunet  style  of  complexion.  She  looked 
skrumptious  next  to  Sister  in  my  humble  opin- 
ion. Her  whole  name  is  Miss  Blanchie  Snyder 
Everton  Bopp  and  I  hope  she  will  change  the 
last  part  for  a  name  that  goes  better  with  her 
handsomeness  and  talens.  It  didn't  seem  to 
match  that  a  valedictory  graduate  with  distinc- 
tion should  have  so  bunty  a  name  as  Bopp,  But  pa 
says  the  Boppses  and  the  Tadmores  are  bound  to 
rise  up  in  this  free  country  for  they  belong  to 
pedagreeable  society.  Miss  Bopp's  speach  was 
printed  in  the  newspaper  this  morning,  it  ends 
up  nice  but  Han  wont  let  me  have  it  so  111  copy 
the  last  part  for  you  leavin  out  only  a  little 
bit. 

END  OF  Miss  BOPP'S  SPEACH. 

"  Friends,  Schoolmates,  Teachers,  the  time  has 
come  for  us  to  depart  for  far  distant  climbs,  and 


208  TOM  TAD 

we  meet,  alas,  once  more,  for  the  final  separation 
to  say,  farewell,  fare  thee  well  forever.  Some 
will  go  hence  to  the  higher  walks  of  duty,  some 
to  the  golden  pearly  links  of  wedlock,  some  will 
continue  to  pursue  and  be  pursued.  But  think 
not,  lovely  Teachers,  that  we  will  ever,  ever,  ever 
neglect  the  thorny  rocks  of  the  hill  of  Scince, 
and  the  gentle  meanderings  of  learning  where 
we  have  so  long  cemented  ties. 

"  To  you,  dear  classmates,  I  can  only  say  fit 
yourselves  for  the  duties  of  life.  Let  us  cling 
together !  Let  us  persevere !  To  us  belong  the 
glamour  and  the  glory.  These  classic  halls  of 
Glen  Forest  shall  no  more  echo  to  our  frivolous 
tread  but  yonder,  yonder,  on  the  slopes  and 
shoals  of  woman's  higher  sphere,  are  wreathes 
more  enduring  than  marble  halls,  and  crowns 
more  purple  than  the  evening  twilight !  Be  firm, 
be  true !  Falter  not  in  your  mission,  but  remem- 
ber the  words  of  the  poet 

There's  no  such  word  as  fale." 


XXYII 

LITERARY   DIVERSIONS 

DOCTOR  ELDON  enjoyed  poetry.  It  was  a 
habit  of  his  to  while  away  summer  afternoons, 
seated,  book  in  hand,  with  chair  tilted  back 
against  a  small  sassafras  tree  which  grew  upon 
the  lawn,  in  front  of  the  Tadmore  house.  He 
was  seated  thus,  in  post-prandial  ease,  on  the  day 
following  that  of  the  commencement.  So  com- 
pletely was  he  abstracted  from  "  sense  and  out- 
ward things,"  by  the  charm  of  what  he  read, 
that  he  did  not  hear  the  importunate  appeal  of 
the  ambitious  catbird,  which,  on  a  neighboring 
maple,  was  performing  all  the  parts  of  an  ex- 
quisite operetta,  for  Eldon's  sole  delight. 

Tom  came  sauntering  over  the  lawn  trying  to 
fix  a  crooked  arrow  to  the  string  of  a  home- 
made hickory  bow. 

"  Look  out !  uncle,  or  I'll  slay  thee,  villain,  as 
William  Tell  did  Gesler.  Put  an  apple  on  your 
head,  and  play  Albert.  Le'me  try  if  I  can  knock 
that  book  out  of  your  hand.  Wish  I  had  a  gun 
'stead  of  a  bow  'n  arrow." 

"  What  would  you  do  with  a  gun  ?  " 

209 


210  TOM  TAD 

"Kill  game  and  things,  and  fire  salutes,  and 
drill.  Fritz  could  teach  me  bay'net  exercises 
and  light  artillery.  This  is  how  the  soldiers 
do:  Shoulder — arms!  Garry — arms!  Present — 
arms !  Order — arms ! " 

The  boy,  handling  his  bow  as  a  gun,  gave  and 
executed  these  military  commands  with  an 
energy  surprising  to  his  uncle  and  quite  alarming 
to  his  mother  who,  with  her  sewing,  came  out  to 
the  veranda  to  see  what  was  going  on.  Tom 
gave  her  a  military  salute,  then  flung  the  bow 
aside  and,  casting  himself  on  the  grass  near  his 
uncle,  lay  sprawling,  in  order  to  "  cool  off." 

"  "What  you  reading,  uncle  ?  " 

"  "Wordsworth's  Poems.  Shall  I  read  aloud  to 
you?" 

"Wordsworth?  That's  the  Harry  Gill  feller, 
isn't  it  ?  There's  a  piece  in  the  Rhetorical  Guide 
by  him.  I  don't  know  only  but  one  verse." 

"You  don't  know  only  but  one  verse?"  re- 
peated Tom's  mother.  "That's  a  very  faulty 
sentence,  my  son." 

"  Yes,  it's  false  syntax,  for  the  pupil  to  avoid. 
I  said  it  a-purpose  to  see  if  you'd  detect  the 
error. — That  verse  I  was  a-going  to  tell  you  of, 
we  had  to  commit  for  Professor  Ripantare.  It's 
good  for  the  vocal  organs  of  the  pharnyx." 

"  Larynx." 

"  That's  what  I  say.  And  to  strengthen  the 
abominable  muscles.  The  verse  goes  this  way : 


LITEKARY  DIVERSIONS  211 

"'And  fiercely  by  the  arm  he  took  her, 

And  by  the  arm  he  held  her  fast, 
And  fiercely  by  the  arm  he  shook  her, 
And  cried,  "I've  caught  you  then  at  last! "  ' 

That's  nice  po'try,  mother ;  isn't  it,  Uncle  Felix  ? 
I  like  the  rhymes  '  tooker '  and  '  shooker.'  You 
yellocute  them  in  the  oritund  swell.  Professor 
Kipantare  makes  a  splendid  Harry  Gill — 'spe- 
cially when  his  teeth  chatter  and  when  he  jumps 
out  from  behind  a  rick  of  barley  to  grab  old 
Goody  and  fiercely  by  the  arm  he  shook  her." 

"  There  are  better  poems  than  *  Goody  Blake,' 
in  this  volume,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Shall  I  read 
you  one  ?  " 

"'Spect  there  are,  but  ne'mind  readin'  'em. 
You  can  write  better  ones,  can't  you,  uncle  ?  I 
bet  you  can  beat  old  Wordsworth  with  your  left 
hand  tied  behind  you.  Gee  whiz  !  /  can  make 
po'try  myself.  S'posin'  you  and  me  yank  out 
some  feet,  pentameter  or  diameter  or  anything 
you  say !  You  make  up  a  selection  about  me 
and  I'll  compose  one  about  you.  Mother  will  be 
empire." 

"  Umpire,  you  mean." 

"  Yep ;  mother  will  be  umpire  and  ump  which 
piece  is  best." 

"  All  right,"  laughed  the  good-natured  Doctor. 
"  Bring  on  the  literary  tools." 

Tom  ran  into  the  library  and  brought  back  pa- 
per and  pencils.  Then  with  sober  brow  he  essayed 


212  TOM  TAD 

his  part  in  the  competitive  trial.  Prone  on  the 
sward  in  the  shade  of  the  spicy  sassafras,  he  lay 
many  minutes,  agonized  with  the  throes  of  in- 
vention, his  toes  digging  the  sod,  his  features 
twisting,  his  eyes  rolling,  his  entire  body  tense, 
in  sympathy  with  the  prodigious  labor  of  his 
brain.  Meanwhile  Felix  scribbled  down  a  score 
of  jingling  lines  recalling  in  playful  ridicule,  a 
recent  mishap  his  nephew  had  suffered  while 
prosecuting  experimentally  his  favorite  study  of 
animate  nature.  Discouraged  by  the  tardiness 
of  his  own  slow  paced  muse  Tom  presently  called 
out, 

"  How  you  getting  on,  uncle  ?  " 

"  I'm  through,"  was  the  answer.  "  What  luck 
are  you  having  ?  Do  the  numbers  flow  ?  Stand 
and  deliver  what  you've  written  so  far." 

Tom  slowly  got  upon  his  feet,  took  a  Henry 
Clay  attitude,  made  a  comical  grimace  aside  to 
his  mother,  and  read : 

"  Felix  Eldon  is  my  uncle, 
And  he  doctored  Squinty  Eunkle, 
And  he  swore  at  Peter  Noggle, 
Who  does  smoke  a  pipe,  and  sproggle." 

"  What's  that  last  word,  Tommy  ?  "  said  the 
lad's  mother.  The  uncle  also  had  a  curiosity 
about  the  uncommon  word. 

"  Sproggle,"  said  Tom,  "  s-p-r-o-g-g-l-e." 

"  Sproggle  ?    I'm  afraid  that  is  a  forced  rhyme. 


LITERARY  DIVERSIONS  213 

What  do  you  mean  by  '  sproggle '  ?  Is  it  a  noun 
or  a  verb  ?  " 

"Don't  you  catch  on  to  the  meaning  of 
sproggle  ?  You  can  tell  the  sense  by  the  way  I 
use  it.  Sproggle  is  a  transitory  verb  and  it 
means  sort  of  gape  and  look  poorly  and  make  a 
body  tired.  Pete  smokes  his  pipe  and  that's  all 
he  can  do  except  sproggle." 

"  My  child,  how  silly  !  There's  no  such  word 
in  the  dictionary,"  protested  Mrs.  Tadmore. 

"  Well,  what  if  there  isn't  ?  Professor  Snip- 
son  says  a  real  poet  makes  up  something  out  of 
nary  nothing  and  gives  it  a  Habitation  and  a 
name.  He  says  that's  just  what  makes  Shake- 
speare a  big  poetry  gun.  You  don't  like  the 
sarcasm  in  my  piece,  uncle,  and  that's  what 
pinches  you.  Let's  hear  yours  about  me." 

Dr.  Eldon  gravely  intoned  the  following 
lines : 

THE  BOY  AND  THE  BUMBLE  BEE. 

Mesaw  a  humble  Bumble  Bee 
Enfeasting  in  a  pumpkin  flower; 

Methought  that  me  would  look  and  see 

The  busy  way  that  he,  that  he 
Improves  each  shining  hour. 

Meshut  him  in  the  pumpkin  bloom, 
Meheard  him  sizz  and  bizz  within, 

Mesaid,  "O  Bumble  Bee,  thy  doom 

It  is  to  bizz  and  sizz  and  boom, 
And  glad  me  with  thy  din.'' 


214  TOM  TAD 

Meheld  him  to  my  happy  ear, 

Mesang,  "  His  cage  is  yellow  gold; " 

Meloved  his  bothered  buzz  to  hear; 

Mequoth  "Sweet  insect,  do  not  fear, 
But  bumble  loud  and  bold." 

Eftsoons  me  heard  a  sudden  wail, 

Meheard  myself  to  howl! 
Clean  through  that  pumpkin  blossom  pale, 
Mefelt  him  stick  his  fiery  tail, 

Mefelt  him  sting  my  jowl. 

"  Good  for  you,  uncle !  "  cried  Tom.  "  That 
knocks  mine  all  hollow!  I  never  could  write 
po'try.  There  don't  seem  to  be  a  grea'  deal  of 
sense  in  po'try  anyway.  Wish  I  could  write  a 
true  fiction  foundered  on  facts,  like  David 
Copperfield  and  Huck  Finn.  How  do  authors 
make  up  real  facts  out  of  nothing  ?  " 

"They  don't  exactly  make  them  up  out  of 
nothing.  They  put  their  lives  into  their  books. 
They  tell  what  they  really  know." 

"  Gee  whiz !  Uncle,  I  know  lots  and  gobs.  But 
I  can't  compose  worth  a  cent.  How  do  you  go 
to  work  to  put  your  life  in  a  book  ?  I'm  just  full 
of  ideas,  but " 

"  Write  them  down,"  advised  Dr.  Eldon,  "  just 
as  they  rise  in  your  mind.  State  facts  exactly 
as  they  happen.  Use  the  plainest  words  and  tell 
your  story  clearly  so  that  no  one  can  fail  to  get 
your  true  meaning." 

"  But  I  don't  hardly  know  what  to  write  on," 
said  Tom. 


LITEKAKY  DIVERSIONS  215 

"  Write  on  paper." 

"  That's  not  a  good  joke.  You  understand  me 
well  enough.  I  mean  I  can't  think  up  a  good 
wonderful  story  that  is  a  real  fact.  Mother, 
Uncle  Felix  says  I  ought  to  aim  high  and  be  a 
great  author  like  Ibid.  "Would  you  like  me  to 
be  a  bully  scholar,  or  a  general  or  what  ?  I  can't 
choose." 

"  I  wish  you  to  lead  your  class  in  all  your 
studies." 

"Professor  Ripantare  says  I'm  the  best  de- 
claimer  in  the  whole  school,  and  he  always  wants 
me  to  speak  *  Rienzi '  at  the  exhibitions.  But  I 
think  'Spartacus*  is  a  better. piece,  don't  you? 
I  like  to  let  out  my  voice  on  that  part  where  it 
says,  *  That  very  night  the  Romans  landed  on 
our  coast.  I  saw  the  breast  that  had  nourished 
me  trampled  by  the  hoof  of  the  war  horse, — the 
bleeding  body  of  my  father  flung  amidst  the 
blazing  rafters  of  our  dwelling.' ':  Tom  assumed 
a  tragic  attitude  to  recite  these  harrowing  sen- 
tences. He  gesticulated  and  contorted  his  face 
in  a  manner  truly  terrific. 

"  I  don't  understand  why  you  should  want  to 
speak  such  shocking  words,  my  son.  Why  don't 
you  select  a  prettier  piece  ?  " 

"  Mother,  you  don't  get  into  the  soul  of  these 
grand  savage  speeches :  I  reckon  it  is  because  you 
are  a  woman. — You  ought  to  hear  Professor 
Ripantare  throw  himself  into  '  Spartacus,'  when 


216  TOM  TAD 

he  says  *  If  ye  are  beasts,  then  stand  there  like 
fat  oxen  waiting  for  the  butcher's  knife !  If  ye 
are  men,  follow  me  ! '  Why,  I  don't  believe  we 
could  hear  thunder  while  he  was  saying,  *  follow 
me ! '  Charley  Blogson  was  sitting  on  the  win- 
dow-sill and  when  Professor  Kipantare  yelled 
'follow  me!'  he  lunged  at  Charley  and  scared 
him  so  he  tumbled  off  of  the  window  and  said 
*  Shot  up ! '  and  the  whole  audience  laughed.  It 
takes  a  mightly  eloquent  man  to  make  it  seem  so 
real  to  the  boys  as  that !  " 

"Are  the  Professor's  favorite  recitations 
usually  so  violent  ?  Has  he  no  selections  of  the 
quiet  kind  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  '  Bingen  on  the  Khine ' ;  that's 
tolerable  quiet, — 'specially  where  the  dying 
soldier  lays  dead.  There's  a  dandy  quiet  speech 
in  '  Spartacus '  that  always  makes  me  solemn  and 
think  of  past  ages  of  happiness  and  all  that, 
when  I  was  a  child." 

"  You  are  not  so  very  old  yet,  are  you  ?  Not 
too  old  to  learn.  I  am  glad  you  are  doing  nicely 
in  elocution.  How  do  you  rank  in  your  composi- 
tion work  ?  " 

"That's  just  what  bothers  me,  mother.  I 
usen't  to  get  the  hang  of  composing.  But  Uncle 
Felix  gave  me  a  private  lecture  and  I  believe 
I've  caught  onto  it  at  last.  Hello!  here  they 
come ! " 

This  exclamation  announced  the  neisy  approach 


LITERARY  DIVERSIONS  217 

of  a  covey  of  boys  and  girls  unexpected  except 
by  Tom  who  hastily  informed  his  mother  that  he 
had  invited  the  children  to  come  up  that  after- 
noon to  play  Scoomfoozle. 


XXVIII 

SOOOMFOOZLE 

"  Scoomy !  Scoomy !  Scoomy  ! "  shouted  the 
juvenile  invaders  as  they  advanced  swarming 
over  the  lawn  and  surrounded  the  sassafras  tree. 

"Uncle  Felix,  they  mean  you;  you're  to  be 
Scoomfoozle ;  better  hustle  right  away  and  fix 
yourself  up ! "  A  chime  of  girls'  tongues 
pleaded,  "  Please,  Doctor  Eldon,"  and  a  peal  of 
boys'  voices  sang  out,  "  Oh,  come  on !  " 

"  You  have  to,  uncle,  for  I  gave  my  word  and 
honor  you  would." 

"  May  I  not  respectfully  decline  ?  " 

"  Naw  1 "  grumbled  the  boys,  relentless  as  a 
council  of  savages  condemning  a  prisoner  to  the 
stake. 

"  No-sir-ee-bob !  "  added  the  imperative  nephew. 
"You  shan't  decline  respectfully  or  unrespect- 
fully. — You  need  the  exercise  and  the  fun,  same 
as  we  do." 

"  Wait  then  till  I  put  my  book  away ;  I'll  be 
back  in  a  minute." 

At  these  words  the  little  women  danced  for 
glee  and  the  small  men  fell  to  pommeling  one 
another  in  sheer  delight.  The  amiable  promoter 

218 


SCOOMFOOZLE  219 

of  their  childish  pleasures,  stepped  into  the 
library,  where  he  metamorphosed  himself  by 
putting  on  an  old  dressing-gown  and  a  hideous 
yellow  mask.  Then  going  out  by  a  back  door 
he  stole  unobserved  toward  the  heedless  children, 
and  lay  awhile  in  ambush  behind  a  sweet-scented 
shrub. 

Meanwhile  Tom  disclosed  to  Melissa  Brown 
the  mystery  and  the  meaning  of  the  game  in 
which  she  was  to  participate  for  the  first  time. 

"The  Scoomfoozle  is  a — Scoomfoozle — he  is 
something  like  the  Blackman,  but  horribler.  It 
isn't  a  person  nor  an  ogre  nor  a  ghost — it's  a 
wild  Scoomfoozle  who  makes  you  feel  squirmy 
when  it  looks  your  way  and  makes  you  wither 
up  and  turn  green  outside  and  inside,  if  he 
touches  you ! " 

"  How  do  you  know  inside  ?  "  queried  Melissa. 

"How  do  you  know  your  soul? — You  can't 
see  it.  The  Scoomf oozle's  finger  turns  you  green 
as  scum  on  a  frog  pon' : — you  don't  show  green 
— that's  the  magic — but  you  realize  the  minute 
he  touches  you,  you  are  wrinkly  and  green 
through  and  through. — Maybe  when  he  catches 
you  he'll  chaw  you  up  and  swaller  you  or  play 
the  bandola  on  you " 

"  I  guess  I'll  only  look  on  and  see  the  others 
play." 

"  No,  no  ;  everybody  must  join  in.  You  will 
like  the  risk — there's  lots  of  fun  in  being  scared 


220  TOM  TAD 

if  you  can  only  bear  the  suspense  and  not  get 
rattled. — Scoomy  isn't  a  fact,  no  more  than 
Santa  Glaus.  But  sometimes  I  'magine  it  is  a 
real  bonyfied  Scoomfoozle  and  I  just  die  ! — Say  ; 
stop  your  cuttin'  up  and  all  go  a  good  piece 
away  from  the  porch.  This  porch  is  home  and, 
when  the  Scoomfoozle  comes  towards  you,  you 
try  to  get  home  without  him  grabbing  you. — 
Why  don't  uncle  get  a  move  on  him  ?  He  said 
he'd  be  back  right  away." 

Melissa,  catching  sight  of  a  hideous  face  peer- 
ing from  behind  the  shrub,  screeched  the  dis- 
covery to  her  huddled  playmates  who  sent  up 
one  choral  cry  of  crazy  joy  and  lapsed  into  dead 
silence.  The  uncouth  shape,  the  grotesque 
motions,  the  threatful  mumblings  of  the  goblin 
from  the  bushes,  filled  every  breast  with  that 
"  pleasing  pain "  which  mock  danger  inspires. 
All  yielded  to  the  hypnotism  of  make-believe, 
and  courted  the  ecstasy  of  feigned  terror. 

Toward  his  prey  advanced  the  Scoomfoozle; 
it  pawed  the  turf,  it  lurched,  it  snorted,  it 
quivered,  it  stood  stock  still  in  strange  slumber. 

"  Let's  run  home  ! "  gasped  Melissa. 

"  No  ! "  whispered  Tom ;  "  not  yet !  Watch 
him !  He  sleeps  when  he's  awake  and  he's 
awake  when  he  sleeps.  Watch  out  for  him ! " 

Truly  the  manoeuvres  of  "  Scoomy  "  surpassed 
all  expectation.  No  one  could  foretell  at  what 
moment  the  wily  Thing  might  fall  into  a  fit  of 


SCOOMFOOZLE  221 

blind  rage,  or  spring  nimbly  into  the  air,  or 
prance  like  a  kangaroo,  or  howl  like  a  gorilla,  or 
make  an  impossible  rush  in  several  directions  at 
once.  Perhaps,  while  wriggling  its  baleful 
fingers  towards  one  of  the  boys,  it  would  dart 
sideways  or  backwards  and  fly  at  a  girl  before 
she  had  time  even  to  turn  green  or  to  expire. 

The  explosive  jargon  of  the  boys,  the  volleyed 
screams  of  the  misses,  the  nondescript  noises 
made  by  Scoomfoozle,  aroused  Miss  Hannah 
Tad  more  from  an  afternoon  nap  and  brought 
her  to  the  piazza  to  learn  what  caused  the  com- 
motion. 

She  greeted  the  children  with  nods  of  personal 
recognition  and  with  welcoming  smiles. 

"  Come  and  play,  sister." 

"  I'm  too  old,  Tom." 

"That  comes  of  your  graduating.  But  you 
are  not  older  than  uncle, — I  mean  Scoomy. 
Play  in'  '11  make  you  young  again,  like  Ponthe  de 
Leon."  Tom  clapped  to  his  lips  a  broad  leaf  and 
made  it  pop  by  suction.  "  We're  a-waiting  for 
you,"  he  said,  and  turned  a  cart-wheel. 

Hannah  yielded  to  the  importunity  of  her 
brother,  though  reluctant  to  engage  in  violent 
exercise.  The  exacting  tasks  of  school  had 
broken  her  health,  and  the  extra  strain  of  com- 
mencement night  had  entailed  a  series  of  nervous 
headaches.  However  she  went  into  the  sport 
with  cheerful  looks. 


222  TOM  TAD 

The  dramatic  glamour  again  enveloped  the 
scene  and  clothed  the  Scoomfoozle  with  his 
wonted  terrors.  Now  one,  now  another  reckless 
lad,  fell  a  victim  to  It  and  each  captive  shrank 
into  a  green  manikin,  and  supplied  living  food  to 
the  yellow-jawed  monster.  Once,  Melissa  Brown 
was  sure  she  should  be  caught,  but  Tom,  hazard- 
ing his  life  and  his  natural  color,  had  the  desper- 
ate courage  to  save  her  by  plucking  at  Scoomy's 
gabardine. 

Suddenly,  to  the  consternation  of  girls  and 
boys,  their  common  enemy,  venting  a  ferocious 
whoop,  dashed  through  their  midst,  straight 
towards  Hannah.  She  saw  him  coming,  screamed, 
fled  like  a  hunted  fawn,  flew  like  a  frightened 
dove.  The  boys  encouraged  her  by  wild  cheers. 
The  girls  stood  speechless  with  bated  breath,  in 
palpitating  sympathy.  Mrs.  Tadmore  dropped 
her  sewing  and  hastened  to  the  middle  of  the 
lawn,  to  note  the  progress  and  the  result  of  the 
chase. 

Never  before  had  the  Scoomfoozle  produced 
such  a  sensation  among  the  small  folks.  Maybe, 
after  all,  he  was  not  Uncle  Felix !  There  might  be 
a  Scoomfoozle !  There  might  be  anything !  Tom 
remembered  reading  in  the  mythology  how  Pan 
sometimes  makes  his  appearance  among  the  fright- 
ened shepherds. 

In  and  out  among  shade  trees,  around  flower 
beds,  through  tangles  of  low  shrubbery,  flitted 


SCOOMFOOZLE  223 

the  white-robed  fugitive,  pursued  by  the  grisly 
shape  with  the  yellow,  grinning  face.  Is  he 
gaining  ground  ?  Will  her  strength  hold  out  ? 
Can  she  escape  untouched  ?  She  skims  over  the 
greensward,  she  flutters  past  the  rose  hedge  and 
the  white-fringe  tree, — she  is  nearing  the  sassa- 
fras,— she  will  soon  reach  home ! — Yes ! — No ! — 
a  panic  dismay  seizes  the  girl — she  sinks  upon 
the  grass,  faint  and  dizzy.  The  Scoomfoozle  had 
her  in  his  power.  He  was  bending  over  to  claim 
his  own,  when,  raising  her  right  hand,  two  fingers 
of  which  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  she  stayed 
him  with  the  words : 

"King's  Ex!" 

"  King's  Ex ! "  echoed  the  boys  and  girls,  in 
quick  chorus. 

"  You  can't  catch  her  now,  Uncle  Felix ! "  in- 
terposed Tom  with  earnestness  approaching  to 
solemnity;  "'King's  Ex'  means  King's  Excuse 
— she  is  excused  by  the  king,  and  nobody  darst 
touch  her,  darst  they,  Han  ?  " 

"  No ! "  gasped  Hannah,  recovering  her  breath, 
— "  you  can't  catch  me  now  1 " 


XXIX 
BARCLAY'S  GUN 

BARCLAY  SNOOKS,  carrying  his  "shooting 
iron,"  and  accompanied  by  Seneca,  made  an  ex- 
ploration to  ascertain  the  condition  of  the  cherry 
crop,  and  to  test  the  quality  of  the  strawberries 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Forest  Glen.  The  boy 
pilferers  knew  the  situation  of  every  orchard  for 
miles  around,  and  took  note  of  the  ripening  of  all 
delicious  fruits.  Perhaps  they  were  not  so  grate- 
ful as  they  should  have  been  for  the  privilege  of 
enjoying  the  results  of  the  labor  and  pains  of 
those  who  cultivated  trees  and  planted  vineyards 
and  berry  patches.  Instead  of  showing  thank- 
fulness for  the  bounties  of  agriculture,  these 
scorners  of  honest  toil  complained  bitterly  of  the 
meanness  and  stinginess  of  the  farmers  who  ob- 
jected to  their  stealing,  or  who  took  measures  to 
prevent  trespass. 

"  Sineca,  git  yer  basket,  and  you  kin  go  along 
with  me  'n  scoop  some  of  them  chirries  we  seed 
at  Bopp's.  Them  sweet  chirries  is  almost  too 
ripe  already.  Bopp  is  a-goin'  away  to  Cincinnati 
to-day,  and  the  ole  woman  ain't  able  to  be 


up." 


224 


BARCLAY'S  GUN  225 

"  Let's  don't  go  there,  Barclay,  they've  got  a 
bulldog.  Let's  go  to  Hine's  new  strawberry 
patch  jist  above  the  holler.  I  bet  I  kin  sneak 
out  and  pick  a  quart  of  berries  before  anybody 
sees  me,  and  not  git  caught.  You  know  Hine 
has  a  wooden  leg  and  can't  run  worth  a  cent." 

"I  don't  keer  a  durn  for  strawberries  this 
morning,  Sineca.  I've  had  strawberries  and 
strawberries  till  I'm  sick  of  'em.  But  I've  got 
a  bigness  for  amber  chirries,  and  amber  chirries 
we'll  git  or  bust.  Who  keers  for  bulldogs? 
Hain't  I  got  this  here  gun  ?  You  kin  jist  slide 
over  the  fence  and  climb  the  tree  while  I  stand 
guard,  and  if  ary  bulldog  shows  hisself,  I'll  give 
him  a  dose  of  cold  lead.  So  come  along,  and 
hurry  up." 

"Le'me  stand  guard  oncet,  and  you  try  the 
climbin'.  You  allus  make  me  run  the  resk,  Bar- 
clay. You  promised  to  stand  guard  that  time 
we  went  over  to  Squire  Hoyle's  orchard.  "Why 
didn't  you  come  and  help  us  out  of  that  scrape  ?  " 

"  I  hadn't  no  gun,  you  know ;  I  did  help  you 
out.  If  I  hadn't  walloped  old  Hoyle,  you  would 
have  been  snatched  up  and  put  in  jail.  While  I 
was  a-chokin'  him  you  saved  your  skin  and  run 
away." 

"  Did  you  wallop  Squire  Hoyle,  Barclay  ?  The 
boys  all  said  he  pounded  you  with  a  club." 

"  Who  tole  you  that  ?  Jist  show  me  the  feller 
that  tole  you  that ! "  Here  Barclay  gritted  his 


226  TOM  TAD 

teeth  and  glared  at  his  brother  with  a  ferocity 
altogether  too  terrible  to  describe.  Seneca  bal- 
anced the  basket  upon  his  head,  and  led  the  way 
towards  the  premises  of  Mr.  Bopp.  An  artist  on 
the  lookout  for  a  picturesque  subject  to  paint 
could  not  have  wished  for  anything  better  than 
that  moving  group  of  two — Barclay  with  his 
gun,  and  Seneca  with  the  basket  poised  on  his 
head.  The  pair  shambled  along  the  by-road  that 
led  to  the  Bopp  domain.  Then  they  slackened 
their  pace  and  looked  carefully  around  them  in 
all  directions.  The  farmer's  cottage,  surrounded 
by  evergreens,  was  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
cherry  trees.  But  nobody  seemed  to  be  at  home, 
and  there  were  no  signs  of  the  dog. 

"  Now  is  yer  chance,  Sineca ;  be  quick  and  I'll 
whistle  if  I  see  any  danger." 

Seneca  stooped  low  and  glided  on,  keeping  a 
fence  between  himself  and  the  cottage  until  he 
came  near  the  tree.  Then  he  straightened  him- 
self up  boldly ;  but  the  moment  his  eyes  glanced 
upward  he  beheld  an  object  the  sight  of  which 
weakened  his  knees.  He  turned  and  fled  to  the 
presence  of  his  noble  kinsman  and  protector. 
"  There's  a  man ! — a  man  up  the  tree ! " 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  exclaimed  he  of  the  gun.  "  Are 
you  sure?  Squat  down  here  in  the  grass  and 
we'll  watch  him." 

Fully  half  an  hour  did  they  lie  in  ambush, 
without  seeing  any  semblance  of  a  man ;  nor  did 


BARCLAY    WITH    MIS    C.fN,    AN'I)    SKNF.CA    WITH    THK    BASKET. 


BAKCLAY'S  GUN  227 

they  hear  any  sound  or  observe  the  least  motion 
in  the  branches  of  the  tree.  Barclay  began  to 
ridicule  and  abuse  Seneca  for  his  groundless 
terror. 

"  There  ain't  no  man  there  1  You're  a  white- 
liver,  and  that's  w'at's  the  matter  with  you. 
You're  a  low-born  coward,  Sineca." 

"I'm  no  lower  born  than  you  are.  If  you 
think  your  liver  is  redder  than  mine,  go  yourself 
and  see  if  there  ain't  a  man  up  the  tree.  I  dare 
you  to." 

"  I  won't  take  no  dare,"  retorted  Barclay, 
blustering.  "  I'll  walk  bold  right  along  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road,  you'll  see,  and  if  there  is  a  man, 
who  keers  ?  I'm  not  afeard  of  no  man  livin'." 

Kising  from  his  nest  in  the  grass,  with  these 
words  on  his  lips,  Barclay  happened  to  glance  to- 
wards the  cottage,  and  to  his  consternation  he 
beheld  Miss  Blanchie  Bopp  in  the  door-yard, 
calmly  watching  his  motions.  Both  he  and 
Seneca  started  off  at  a  gait  more  rapid  than  was 
usual  with  them.  As  they  hurried  past  the 
cherry-tree  and  stole  a  side  look  at  the  amber 
sweets  on  which  they  had  set  their  hearts'  and 
stomachs'  desire,  they  caught  a  startling  view  of 
a  fantastic  figure — a  scarecrow,  flapping  empty 
coat-sleeves  in  the  wind. 

An  attempt  to  snatch  a  free  lunch  from  Mr. 
Hine's  strawberry  garden  also  failed.  Not  only 
was  there  a  barbed  wire  fence  around  the  enclo- 


228  TOM  TAD 

sure ;  the  owner  himself  happened  to  be  picking 
berries. 

Barclay  fared  onward  in  the  pessimistic  mood 
of  a  noble  nature  which  feels  the  world's  in- 
justice, his  small  eyes  roving  over  the  landscape, 
when 

" by  the  way  he  chanced  to  espy 

One  sitting  idle  on  a  sunny  bank." 

The  solitary  figure  was  that  of  Cuff  Chuck,  who 
had  been  amusing  his  leisure  by  playing  mum- 
blety-peg,  all  alone.  Seeing  the  Snooks  boys 
draw  near,  Cuff  thrust  into  his  pocket  the  jack- 
knife  with  which  he  had  been  driving  the  peg. 
Barclay  observed  the  hasty  motion  and  craftily 
foresaw  an  opportunity  to  profit  by  a  mode  of 
traffic  always  in  vogue  among  boys  of  his  stripe. 

"  Hi,  Cuff ;  wot's  up  ?  Hain't  you  lost  ?  Got 
anything  to  trade  ?  Marvles  or  slings  ?  How'd 
ye  like  to  swap  knives,  sight  unseen  ?  " 

The  negro  boy  was  offish  and  reticent. 

"You  allus  cheat,"  he  blurted  out. 

"  How  the  thunder  kin  a  man  cheat  when  he 
swaps  knives  sight  unseen  ?  I'm  not  a-hankering 
to  make  myself  equals  with  tar  and  wool.  I 
only  took  a  notion  to  treat  you  white,  and  you 
suspicion  me." 

Barclay's  resentment  produced  the  effect  he 
desired.  Cuff  slowly  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
old  jack-knife,  concealed  within  the  grasp  of  his 


BARCLAY'S  GUN  229 

large  fist.  The  elder  Snooks,  in  like  manner, 
held  out  a  hand  tightly  closed  around  a  piece  of 
cutlery  lacking  two  rivets  and  one  bone  side- 
piece,  and  having  a  very  feeble  back-spring  and 
a  single  pot-metal  blade. 

"  Now,  Sineca,  take  his  knife  in  yer  right  hand 
and  mine  in  yer  left,  and  change  'em  over  fair 
and  square." 

Seneca,  with  a  gravity  which  did  honor  to  the 
memory  of  the  stoic  whose  name  he  wore,  com- 
plied with  his  brother's  orders.  With  a  trium- 
phant roll  of  his  white  eyeballs,  Cuff  received 
the  broken-handled  treasure,  which,  worthless  as 
it  looked,  was  of  more  value  than  that  which 
Barclay  got  in  exchange — a  knife  with  only  half 
a  blade. 

Barclay's  dignity  was  outraged. 

"  Light  out  of  here,  you  black  thief,  or  I'll  put 
a  load  of  slugs  in  you. — Git ! " 

Cuff  ran  away,  yawping  derisively,  pursued  by 
Seneca's  blackguard  shouts  of 

"  Nigger  !  nigger !  pull  the  trigger  ! 
Cock  the  gun  and  shoot  the  nigger  !  " 

Fate  seemed  adverse  to  Barclay  and  his 
brother.  They  extended  their  excursion  to  the 
river ;  thence  climbed  the  hills  to  the  Big  Woods, 
and  finally  sauntered  to  the  borders  of  the  Tad- 
more  estate.  Sitting  down  to  rest  under  the 
shadow  of  a  great  oak,  the  Emperor,  Barclay  re- 


230  TOM  TAD 

membered  a  speculation  he  had  long  desired  to 
consummate  at  the  expense  of  Thomas  Tadmore, 
junior.  This  was  of  no  less  magnitude  than  the 
sale  of  the  famous  shooting-iron.  Knowing  that 
Tom  was  eager  to  possess  the  historic  weapon, 
Barclay  hoped  to  induce  the  boy  to  buy  it  for  an 
amount  of  cash  some  twenty  times  its  true  value. 

"  Sineca,"  commanded  the  elder  brother,  using 
the  time-honored  prerogative  of  the  first-born  son, 
"  Scud  over  to  Tadmore's  and  tell  Tom  I  want 
him.  Tell  him  I'll  sell  my  gun  as  cheap  as  dirt." 

"  "What'r  you  goin'  to  take  for  it  ?  " 

Barclay  grinned  and  winked.  "  You  jist  play 
into  my  hands,  Sineca,  and  we  kin  cheat  him  out 
of  his  eyes.  The  gun  ain't  wuth  shucks.  I 
never  hit  nothin'  with  it  in  my  life,  except  by 
accident.  It  ain't  wuth  old  iron." 

"  I  knowed  it  wasn't,"  said  Seneca,  gleefully. 
"  But  I'll  stuff  Tom  and  make  him  b'lieve  it's  the 
best  gun  in  the  world." 

"Yes,  stuff  him;  and,  mind  you,  don't  go 
back  on  anything  I  say.  Help  me  bamboozle 
him,  and  I'll  give  you  an  even  quarter  of  it." 

"  A  quarter,  Barclay,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  swow  I  will ;  now  skedaddle." 

Seneca's  feet  took  wings  on  which  he  flew  to 
seek  Tom.  That  ingenuous  youth  was  catching 
beetles  in  the  meadow.  Seneca  shouted 
"  Hello ! "  Tom  returned  the  same  salute.  The 
boys  went  towards  each  other  and  met  to  parley. 


BAKCLAY'S  GUN  231 

Seneca  explained  the  nature  of  his  mission,  and 
the  two  trudged  away  to  the  woods,  and  found 
Barclay  still  seated  under  the  oak,  a  king  beside 
an  Emperor. 

"  How  are  you,  Tad  more  ?  "  asked  the  king, 
condescendingly. 

"  I'm  all  right.  Seneca  says  you  want  to  sell 
your  gun." 

"  Did  you  say  that,  Sineca  ?  I  don't  want  to 
sell  it.  I'd  ruther  buy  a  gun  or  two  than  sell  ary 
gun  I've  got." 

"  Have  you  got  more  than  one  ?  I  never  saw 
you  carry  any  but  this." 

"I  generally  carry  this,  fer  I'm  attached  to 
this  gun.  I  know  I  use  this  gun  too  much  fer 
its  own  good.  A  gun  ort  to  rest,  like  a  hoss. 
I'd  ruther  not  sell  any  of  my  guns,  but  as  I  said 
to  Sineca,  says  I,  '  Ef  Tom  Tadmore  wants  that 
gun,  he  shall  have  it  dirt  cheap.'  Didn't  I  tell 
you  that,  Sineca  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  you  said  seein'  it  was  him,  you  would 
let  it  go  as  cheap  as  old  iron." 

"  Ef  I  said  that,  I  won't  go  back  on  my  word. 
But  I  do  hate  to  part  with  gran'daddy's  shoot- 
ing-iron. It's  been  in  the  family  so  long.  It's 
sich  a  good  reliable  family  gun,  too.  Jist  the 
thing  fer  a  boy.  Why,  a  child  kin  handle  that 
gun  and  bring  down  whatever  he  aims  at. 
Look'e  here,  now.  Do  you  see  that  there  leaf 
on  that  buckeye  tree  ?  " 


232  TOM  TAD 

Tom  saw  a  good  many  leaves  on  the  tree,  but 
he  was  not  sure  whether  he  saw  just  that  partic- 
ular leaf  which  Barclay  sighted,  or  not.  Barclay 
did  not  wait  for  a  definite  answer  but,  raising  the 
gun  and  cocking  it,  he  pointed  towards  the  thick 
foliage  and  fired.  A  heavy  charge  of  shot  went 
rattling  among  the  greenery,  and  a  shower  of 
leaves  came  floating  to  the  earth. 

"  There !  Do  you  see  that  ?  Here's  the  leaf 
I  aimed  at."  And  he  picked  up  an  oak  leaf. 
Seneca  saw  the  mistake,  and  without  Tom's  no- 
ticing the  mancsuvre,  he  thrust  a  buckeye  leaf 
into  his  brother's  hand.  Tom  was  so  anxious 
to  possess  any  sort  of  gun,  that  he  was  not 
critical.  All  that  troubled  him  was  the  price. 
He  was  mightily  pleased  with  the  noise  that 
Barclay's  gun  made — and  the  smoke. 

"What's  the  lowest  you  will  take  for  it?" 
was  his  eager  question.  Barclay  exchanged  sly 
winks  with  Seneca. 

"  What  would  you  say,  Sineca  ?  " 

"  If  it  was  mine,"  said  Seneca,  meditating  as 
large  a  sum  as  his  imagination  could  easily  con- 
ceive, "  if  it  was  mine  I  wouldn't  let  it  go  for  less 
than  twelve  dollars." 

Tom's  countenance  fell.  Barclay  gave  a  long 
whistle.  "  You  put  it  mighty  cheap,  Sineca,  but 
I  am  willin'  to  jist  give  it  away  to  sich  a  friend 
as  Mr.  Tadmore." 

"We    ain't    very    good  friends,"  said  Tom. 


BARCLAY'S  GUN  233 

"  You  used  to  treat  me  real  mean.  Don't  you 
know  you  tried  to  shoot  me  ?  But  since  we  had 
that  fight  last  Fourth  of  July,  you've  behaved 
pretty  decent." 

This  speech  took  Barclay  aback.  He  was  los- 
ing ground,  and  made  haste  to  recover  his  ad- 
vantage. 

"  Do  you  know  I've  allus  liked  you  sence  that 
day.  You're  no  coward,  Tadmore.  You  jumped 
onto  me  like  a  gentleman.  You've  got  good 
blood.  I  know  I'm  none  of  your  equals,  but 
Barclay  Snooks  is  your  friend  in  his  fur  down 
way,  and  if  you  ever  have  any  fightin'  to  do 
that's  beneath  you  he'll  do  it  fer  you,  and  be 
proud  to  do  it.  Have  a  cigar  ?  " 

"  No,  I  thank  you.     I  don't  smoke." 

"  Well,  you'll  learn.  Stick  that  in  your  vest- 
pocket  and  smoke  it  when  you  feel  like  it. 
That's  a  good  cigar." 

Tom  hesitatingly  received  the  proffered  gift 
and  put  it  into  his  vest  pocket. 

"That's  a  good  cigar,  sir.  None  better  is 
made  or  sold.  I  allus  use  that  cigar  fer  my  own 
smokin'.  It's  a  'Cuban  Beauty.'  They  come 
high,  but  a  man  must  have  fust  class  tobaccer. 
Come  on,  Sineca,  hadn't  we  better  be  startin' 
back?" 

"  You  didn't  say  how  much  you  would  take 
for  the  gun  ?  "  said  Tom,  betraying  anxiety. 

"I  told  you  I  was  willin'  to  sell  it  fer  next 


234  TOM  TAD 

to  nothing.  "What  do  you  say  to  eight  dol- 
lars?" 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  raise  that  much.  But  I'll 
tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  give  you  six  dollars, 
cash  down,  if  you  will  come  round  by  our  house 
and  get  the  money  and  leave  the  gun." 

Barclay,  with  affected  reluctance,  agreed  to 
this,  and  the  contracting  parties  went  towards 
Tom's  house.  The  Snooks  boys  stopped  out  on 
the  lawn,  while  their  deluded  victim  ran  to  his 
room,  and,  emptying  a  toy  safe,  brought  his 
hoard  of  coin  in  dollars,  halves,  dimes,  nickels 
and  cents.  The  entire  sum  amounted  to  five 
dollars  and  fifty-one  cents. 

"  You  owe  me  forty-nine  cents,"  said  Barclay, 
putting  the  cash  into  his  pocket  and  handing  the 
gun  to  Tom. 

"I'll  pay  the  balance  as  soon  as  I  get  the 
money,"  said  Tom,  joyfully.  "  Good-bye." 

"  Then  the  gun  will  be  your'n,"  replied  Bar- 
clay. 

""We  skinned  him,  didn't  we?"  whispered 
Seneca,  snickering.  "  Let's  git  into  the  woods 
where  we  kin  laugh." 

"  I  thought  I  could  take  him  in,"  was  the  re- 
mark of  the  dignified  elder  brother,  walking 
away  and  rattling  his  wealth  in  his  pocket. 

"  Now  give  me  the  dollar  and  a  half  you  prom- 
ised me." 

"  I  didn't  promise  you  no  dollar  and  a  half." 


BAKCLAY'S  GUN  235 

"  You  said  if  I  helped  you  you  would  give  me 
a  quarter  of  what  you  got." 

"  I  meant  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  you  idiot,  not 
a  quarter  of  the  whole  pile.  He  owes  me  forty- 
nine  cents,  and  when  you  collect  that  I'll  give 
you  yer  quarter.  But  don't  git  sassy,  bub,  or 
you  shan't  have  a  durn  cent." 


XXX 

THE  CAEOL   OF  A  MEADOW  LAEK 

MAN  seems  to  be  by  nature  a  shooting  animal. 
Tom,  having  become  the  reckless  possessor  of  a 
shot-gun,  reverted  to  the  savage  state.  Bang ! 
Bang!  Bang!  He  fired  not  only  at  rabbits, 
squirrels,  quails  and  all  other  small  game  which 
cruel  custom  sacrifices  to  the  wanton  pleasure  of 
the  sportsman ;  he  blazed  away  at  fishes  in  the 
brook,  innocent  hop-toads,  and  even  butterflies 
and  "snake-feeders."  Seldom  indeed  did  his 
practice  result  in  serious  injury  to  the  objects 
shot  at.  Whether  his  failure  to  hit  the  mark 
was  owing  to  inaccuracy  of  aim,  or  to  the  per- 
verseness  of  the  gun,  he  never  knew. 

The  young  Mmrod  noticed  with  perplexity 
that  the  unerring  fire-arm,  though  discharged 
with  every  precaution,  produced  effects  contrary 
to  his  intention  and  quite  inexplicable  by  any 
rule  of  sportsmanship.  Once,  when  he  fired  at  a 
red  squirrel  not  ten  feet  from  the  muzzle  of  his 
gun,  Tom  was  astonished  that  bun  ran  up  the  tree 
chattering  and  barking  in  a  manner  unmistakably 
derisive,  while  Squire  Hoyle's  white  cow  received 
a  shower  of  leaden  rain  in  her  surprised  side. 

236 


THE  CAROL  OF  A  MEADOW  LARK  237 

Not  unfrequently  the  capricious  piece  went  off 
before  the  trigger  was  drawn;  and  it  had  an 
exasperating  habit  of  snapping  the  cap  without 
going  off,  when  prompt  action  was  essential. 
The  moral  character  of  the  gun  was  very  bad 
from  long  association  with  Barclay  Snooks. 
Tom  couldn't  trust  to  its  veracity  in  the  least. 

One  day,  a  few  weeks  after  Tom  made  his  pur- 
chase, he  started  out  very  early  in  the  morning 
to  hunt  in  the  Big  Woods.  He  had  been  told 
that  the  best  time  to  find  squirrels  is  at  early 
dawn,  when  they  are  seeking  their  breakfast,  and 
while  yet  the  leaves  and  grass  remain  moist  with 
the  vapors  of  night.  Tom  set  the  alarm  clock 
of  his  will  to  arouse  him  at  four,  and  he  was  up 
on  time.  Taking  his  precious  gun  (which  he  had 
named  Snooksie)  and  a  supply  of  powder  and 
shot,  he  started  out.  The  woods  were  very  still 
and  solemn,  and  the  cool,  sweet  air  of  the  June 
morning  was  delightful  to  breathe.  Tom  looked 
up  at  the  majestic  oaks,  maples,  elms,  walnuts 
and  beeches,  which,  like  the  huge  columns  of  a 
Gothic  temple,  rose  on  every  side  and  seemed  to 
lift  the  sky  upon  arches  of  leafy  boughs.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  conscious  of  a 
sense  of  awe  in  the  presence  of  those  trees. 
They  appeared  to  him  intelligent  things — sub- 
lime, dumb  creatures  with  wise,  great  thoughts 
and  virtues.  Their  lofty  dignity  and  calm 
strength  impressed  him  strangely.  Many  a  little 


238  TOM  TAD 

bird  flitted  through  the  green  solitude,  and  the 
bushes  hid  from,  sight  many  another  that  twit- 
tered or  sang,  but  no  game-bird  was  visible,  and 
no  game  beast,  however  small.  Tom's  eyes, 
searching  the  branches  of  a  lightning-stricken, 
top-broken  linn,  caught  sight  of  something  that 
was  not  agreeable  to  look  at.  A  monstrous 
black-snake,  with  tail  coiled  around  a  dead  limb, 
was  swinging  in  the  air,  like  a  prodigious  ani- 
mated cork-screw,  in  irregular  motion. 

"What  if  that  black-snake  had  dropped  on 
me?"  mused  the  hunter,  peering  around  him 
with  an  uncomfortable  suspicion  that  the  trees 
were  all  harboring  snakes  just  ready  to  fall.  He 
immediately  resolved  to  dispatch  the  reptile  by 
renting  upon  it  the  contents  of  "Snooksie." 
Raising  the  death-dealing  engine  to  his  shoulder, 
he  "took  sight"  at  the  dangling  black-snake. 
He  pulled  the  trigger,  and  "  Snooksie  "  responded 
with  thunder  and  the  usual  scatterment  of  am- 
munition. When  the  smoke  cleared  away,  no 
snake  was  to  be  seen,  either  on  the  tree,  or  on 
the  earth  beneath,  or  in  the  heavens  above.  The 
subtle  beast  had  vanished  utterly. 

Pondering  on  this  extraordinary  incident,  Tom 
reloaded  "Snooksie"  and  trudged  forward,  on 
slaughter  bent.  But  luck  was  against  him. 
After  wandering  for  nearly  two  hours  in  the 
woods,  he  began  to  feel  hungry,  and  concluded  to 
return  home.  By  climbing  over  a  rail  fence  he 


THE  CAKOL  OF  A  MEADOW  LAKE  239 

came  into  a  meadow  belonging  to  Squire  Hoyle, 
through  which  he  could  take  a  well-known  and 
favorite  "  short  cut "  to  his  father's  farm.  His 
spirits  rose  as  he  mounted  the  fence  and  surveyed 
the  fresh  beauty  of  the  open  field,  which  was 
much  more  cheerful  than  the  shadowy  forest,  to 
the  darkness  of  which  the  mysterious  black-snake 
had  added  a  hue  of  terror.  Facing  the  morning 
sunshine,  Tom  jumped  from  the  fence  to  the 
ground  and  began  to  whistle.  With  his  gun 
upon  his  shoulder,  shot-pouch  and  powder-flask 
hanging  at  his  side,  he  started  briskly  to  cross 
the  field.  Through  blue  grass  and  blooming 
clover,  still  sparkling  with  wasting  diamonds  of 
sunlit  dew,  the  lad  went  whistling  on  his  way. 
A  delicious  fragrance  was  shed  from  the 
honeyed  blossoms  of  the  field,  which  the  wild 
bees  were  already  robbing.  The  sky  was  deep 
blue  and  without  a  cloud. 

After  blowing  a  few  merry  notes  from  his 
puckered  lips,  Tom  paused  to  take  breath,  and 
just  at  that  instant  the  melodious  music  of  a 
joyous  bird  came  fluting  to  his  ear ;  and  gazing 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  sound  proceeded, 
Tom  beheld  a  lark  poised  on  the  topmost  branch 
of  a  small  sugar-tree  that  stood  in  the  midst  of 
the  meadow.  Tom  hurriedly  cocked  his  gun, 
and  moved  with  stealthy  paces  towards  the  tree, 
keeping  his  eye  upon  the  unsuspicious  songster. 
One  might  fancy  that  the  happy  vocalist  of  the 


240  TOM  TAD 

treetop  was  melting  his  tremulous  heart  in  morn- 
ing praise  and  thanksgiving  to  the  spirit  of  love 
and  beauty.  The  ecstasy  of  the  matin  solo  was 
not  restrained  when  the  crouching  biped  with 
the  gun  approached  to  within  twenty  feet  of  the 
tree,  and  raised  the  murderous  tube  to  his 
shoulder.  The  bird  seemed  to  notice  Tom  with 
friendly  regard,  and  redoubled  its  ravishing 
efforts.  Ebw  the  tiny  singer  stretched  its  grate- 
ful head  towards  the  blue  sky  and  warbled  to 
God ;  anon,  it  peeped  down  to  the  green  earth 
and  caroled  to  Tom.  The  boy  hears  with  his 
ear — faintly  hears  with  his  heart.  A  feeble  com- 
punction whispers  "forbear,"  but  the  hunter's 
instinct,  the  hereditary  barbarism  surviving  in 
his  blood  from  ancient  ancestors,  prevails  over 
the  still  small  voice  of  gentleness  within  his 
breast.  Bang !  A  puff  of  blue  smoke,  a  whiff 
of  viewless  shot — the  song  is  silenced  forever. 
The  stricken  lark  dropped  fluttering  through  the 
leaves,  and  fell  at  the  sportsman's  feet  on  the 
pitying  grass.  Tom  threw  down  his  gun,  and 
stooped  to  pick  up  his  game.  As  he  reached 
towards  it,  the  poor  thing  quivered  with  new 
terror  and  strove  to  fly  as  from  a  betraying  foe 
recognized  too  late.  But  it  could  not  rise  from 
the  grass.  Tom  held  the  dying  creature  tenderly 
in  his  hand — tenderly  in  that  hand  which  had 
pulled  the  fatal  trigger.  How  hot  were  the 
drops  of  bright  red  blood  that  fell  like  seals  of 


THE  CAROL  OF  A  MEADOW  LARK  241 

condemnation  upon  his  naked  feet.  The  little 
heart  still  beat — the  slayer  felt  it  pounding  upon 
his  conscience.  Once  the  bird  uttered  a  faint, 
sad  chirping,  as  if  to  say :  "  Let  me  go,  and  I 
will  sing,  if  I  can."  Then  the  wings  relaxed, 
the  blood-stained  victim  trembled,  gasped  and 
died.  Tom  stood  for  a  long  time  watching  the 
lifeless  lark  as  it  lay  in  his  hand.  Selfishly, 
wantonly,  cruelly,  he  had  blown  to  destruction, 
song-bird  and  song, — sacred  life — matchless 
music.  Yes,  he  had  shot  the  winged  minstrel 
while  it  was  in  the  very  act  of  trying  to  delight 
him  with  its  most  enchanting  note.  The  All- 
seeing  Eye  had  witnessed  the  unforgivable  deed. 
Not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  uncared  for 
by  Him  who  made  all  things.  How  could  Tom 
make  peace  with  his  own  accusing  conscience? 
Tears  filled  his  eyes.  Through  those  blessed 
drops  of  childish  remorse,  he  tried  to  look  to 
heaven  for  comfort ;  but  the  sky  wore  a  frown, 
and  the  air  whispered  "  for  shame ! "  and  the 
wild  bees  humming  over  the  clover  heads  seemed 
buzzing  to  one  another  their  condemnation  and 
abhorrence.  While  Tom  was  suffering  these 
pangs  of  soul,  the  insensate  gun  which  lay  near 
him  was  hateful  to  his  eyes.  He  was  so  un- 
reasonable as  to  hold  the  death-dealing  instru- 
ment accountable  for  the  evil  he  had  wrought 
with  it.  For  a  moment  he  felt  moved  to  break 
the  odious  thing  in  pieces.  But  reflecting  that 


24:2  TOM  TAD 

"  Snooksie  "  was  not  to  blame,  he  picked  up  that 
unreliable  servant,  and,  walking  onward  in  a  pen- 
sive mood,  crossed  the  meadow,  and,  following  a 
foot-path  through  his  father's  sugar-camp,  was 
soon  within  call  of  home. 

There  stood  in  the  edge  of  the  grove  a  rude 
shed,  which  served  as  a  shelter  for  the  furnace 
and  for  a  large  wooden  cistern  used  in  the  proc- 
ess of  sugar-making.  As  Tom  was  passing  this 
shed  he  was  accosted  by  Barclay  Snooks,  who 
was  lounging  on  a  bench  within  the  enclosure. 

"  Hold  on  a  bit,  pardner,"  said  Barclay,  "  I 
was  on  the  lookout  fer  you." 

Tom  obligingly  checked  his  pace,  turned  from 
the  path,  and  walked  up  to  the  sugar-house.  Bar- 
clay insolently  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot, 
and  then  again  from  foot  to  head,  at  the  same 
time  slowly  sending  from  his  nostrils  a  quantity 
of  tobacco  smoke.  The  paragon  performed  this 
wonderful  feat  self-approvingly,  with  the  air  of 
one  to  whom  such  pneumatic  miracles  were  easy. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  gun  ?  " 

Tom  replied  that  it  was  a  pretty  good  bird 
gun,  and  a  tolerable  snake  gun,  but  not  very 
reliable  as  a  squirrel  killer. 

"You  don't  hold  her  right,"  said  Barclay, 
rising  from  the  bench.  "  Le'me  show  you  how 
to  handle  her." 

Tom,  glad  to  ease  his  muscles,  gave  the 
weapon  into  the  big  boy's  hand.  Barclay  begged 


THE  CAKOL  OF  A  MEADOW  LARK  243 

Tom  just  to  let  him  load  the  bully  old  shooting- 
iron  once  more,  in  pure  affection ;  and  began  to 
ram  its  long,  black  gullet  half  full  of  powder, 
tow  and  shot. 

"It  does  me  good  to  git  holt  of  her  oncet 
agin,"  half  soliloquized  Barclay.  "I  s'pose 
you've  made  up  yer  mind  to  keep  her,  Tadmore, 
now  that  you've  given  her  a  fair  trial." 

"  Keep ! "  exclaimed  Tom.  "  What  do  you 
mean?  Of  course  I  mean  to  keep  the  gun. 
Why  not?" 

"I  let  you  have  it  on  credit,  you  recollect," 
said  Barclay,  deliberately.  "I'm  not  in  any 
particular  hurry  about  the  money,  but  I  do  feel 
sorry  on  your  account,  bub,  fer  boys  ort  to  be 
honest  about  their  money  matters." 

"  Why,  Barclay,  you  know  well  enough  that  I 
paid  you  for  the  gun,  all  but  the  forty-nine  cents 
that  I  paid  to  Seneca,  who  told  me  you  sent  him 
for  it." 

"  Did  Sineca  tell  you  that  ?  Somebody's  got 
a  bad  memory,  my  son,  either  me  er  you.  Have 
you  any  witness  ?  It's  a  good  idee  to  have  yer 
witnesses  nigh.  I've  got  mine  here  behind  the 
sugar-cistern.  You  kin  come  out,  Sineca." 

Very  dramatic  was  the  situation,  when  the 
guileless  younger  brother,  emerging  from  the 
shadow  of  the  cistern,  confronted  Master  Tad- 
more. 

"Now,  it  lays  between  you  two,"  resumed 


244  TOM  TAD 

Barclay.  "  Here  is  brother  Sineca,  he  kin  speak 
for  hisself." 

Tom,  in  high  excitement,  appealed  to  the  com- 
mon witness.  "  Didn't  I,  Sineca  ?  Didn't  I  pay 
Barclay  five  dollars  and  fifty-on«  cents,  and 
afterwards  give  you  forty-nine  cents  ?  " 

Seneca  glanced  at  Barclay  who,  fixing  a  cap 
on  the  gun,  grinned  and  said : 

"  Tell  the  truth,  Sineca,  like  a  Snooks,  and 
don't  beat  about  the  bush." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  ever  clean  gave  up  the 
gun,  Barclay,"  was  the  deliberate  falsehood  of  the 
hopeful  Seneca.  "  He  was  to  pay  up  the  forty- 
nine  cents." 

"  You  lie  !  You  both  lie ! "  cried  Tom,  white 
with  rage.  "  I  did  pay — you  are  thieves.  Give 
back  the  gun !  " 

The  loudness  and  fierceness  of  these  exclama- 
tions were  heard  at  the  Tadmore  mansion,  not 
by  its  human  inmates,  but  by  Hugo,  the  magnifi- 
cent English  mastiff  that  Barclay  was  so  desirous 
of  killing.  The  excited  animal,  roused  by  Tom's 
voice,  came  bounding  from  his  kennel,  barking 
loud,  and  stormed  towards  the  sugar-house. 

Barclay  in  terror  raised  the  gun  to  his 
shoulder,  hurriedly  aiming  at  the  dog.  Seneca 
screamed  and  mounted  in  a  twinkling  to  the  top 
of  the  shed.  The  dog  was  within  a  hundred  feet 
of  Barclay  when  that  quaking  youth  pulled  the 
trigger  and — "Snooksie"  exploded,  flying  to 


THE  CAKOL  OF  A  MEADOW  LARK  245 

flinders  with  a  stunning  report  and  a  cloud  of 
smoke  that  obscured  the  sun.  The  dog,  fright- 
ened, turned  a  summerset  in  his  sudden  effort  to 
stop  running.  Barclay  sustained  no  greater  in- 
jury than  a  scratched  and  blackened  face,  a 
much  bruised  shoulder,  and  the  dislocation  of 
two  fingers.  Bellowing  with  pain  and  fright, 
the  bully  fled,  leaving  Seneca  solitary  upon  the 
roof  of  the  shed. 

Tom  called  the  dog  from  pursuing  Barclay, 
and,  hastening  homeward,  he  said  to  himself: 
"I'm  glad  Barclay's  gun  bio  wed  up." 


XXXI 

THE  UNION  PICNIC 

THE  churches  of  Forest  Glen  held  a  Union 
Picnic,  on  spacious  grounds  including  that  corner 
of  the  Big  Woods  called  Yellow  Oaks,  and  the 
adjacent  level  pasture  belonging  to  the  Tadmore 
farm. 

The  clerk  of  the  weather  mixed  up  the  ele- 
ments, warm,  cool,  moist,  dry,  in  accordance 
with  his  recipe  for  making  heavenly  June  days 
in  southern  Ohio  ;  and  the  result  was  perfection. 
Charley  Blogson,  one  of  the  first  to  arrive  on 
the  picnic  grounds,  voiced  the  opinion  of  boydom 
when  he  said  to  Tom  Tadmore  and  Sam  Noggle, 
"  It's  a  rip-snortin'  fine  morning ! "  to  which  Sam 
answered,  "  Awful  nice  !  "  Miss  Belmont,  also 
an  early  comer  to  the  woodland  heights,  with 
her  Sunday-school  contingent,  could  not  refrain 
from  reciting  the  "  memory  gem  " : 

"  O  Gift  of  God  !    O  perfect  day 
Whereon  shall  no  man  work,  but  play  ; 
Whereon  it  is  enough  for  me, 
Not  to  be  doing,  but  to  be  ! " 

Many  of  the  public  school-teachers  who  taught 
also  in  Sabbath-school  or  sang  in  church  choirs, 

246 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  247 

were  at  the  picnic.  Conspicuous  among  the 
school  ma'ams,  Miss  Crinkler,  not  the  least  nor 
the  youngest  member  of  the  High  School 
"faculty,"  tripped  along  skittishly  beside  Pro- 
fessor Ripantare,  fanning  him  with  a  palm  leaf 
fan  and  imposing  upon  him  the  custody  of  her 
gaudy  parasol.  The  Professor  had  strained 
his  principles  by  appearing  at  a  function  sustained 
by  the  clergy,  for  he  made  no  bones  of  confiding 
to  educated  people  that  he  was  an  agnostic,  and 
he  shocked  Miss  Crinkler  by  asking,  in  deep 
chest  tones,  if  she  had  read  Bob  Ingersol's  "  The 
Mistakes  of  Moses  "  ? 

Herr  Von  Schlag,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  he  played  the  organ  in  the  Unequivocal 
Church,  also  surprised  certain  gossipy  folks  by 
showing  his  bushy  mane  and  big  eye-glasses  at  a 
religious  jubilation ;  for  he  was  known  to  sympa- 
thize with  Kipantare's  heresies,  and  both  men 
were  acknowledged  pessimists. 

Josephus  Gadmeter  failed  not  in  his  proverbial 
punctuality ;  he  pervaded  the  grove  and  patrolled 
the  meadow,  a  self-constituted  committee  of  the 
whole.  Of  course  all  the  village  pastors  were 
there,  Reverend  Ennydox,  Parson  Jones,  Preacher 
Brown  and  the  rest.  Besides  these  local  minis- 
ters, the  Reverend  Ingot  Bullion  came  from  a 
neighboring  town,  with  his  ruddy  wife  and  seven 
children.  Everybody  loved  this  rough  and  ready 
evangelist,  on  account  of  his  genuine  goodness 


248  TOM  TAD 

and  absolute  sincerity.  He  had  an  amusing  way 
of  referring  to  sects,  by  abbreviations,  as  though 
they  were  so  many  railroads.  "  I  was  raised," 
he  would  say,  "among  the  U.  B.'s,  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, but  my  father  was  an  M.  E.,  and  one  of 
my  uncles  an  M.  P.  But  I  extend  the  right  hand 
of  fellowship  to  any  preacher  of  the  gospel.  I 
exchanged  pulpits  last  Sunday  with  a  C.  P.,  al- 
though you  all  know  I'm  an  out  and  out  B.  G. — 
one  of  the  Broadest  Gauge." 

It  seemed  as  if  everybody  had  been  invited  to 
the  Union  Picnic.  Who  would  have  believed 
that  the  neighborhood  was  so  populous  and  the 
Sabbath-school  so  popular?  No  leading  family 
within  a  circuit  of  five  miles  was  unrepresented. 
The  Smythes  came  out  in  full  force,  the  Hoyles, 
the  Atkinsons,  the  Bopps,  the  Culpeppers,  the 
Gush  girls,  Amy  and  her  sister, — everybody. 
And  everybody  was  "having  a  real  good  time." 

Somewhat  aloof  from  the  throng  stood  Mrs. 
Bogus  and  the  Judge,  under  a  spreading  beech, 
upon  the  smooth  bole  of  which  their  son  Joey 
was  carving  the  letters  J.  B.  The  ubiquitous 
Mr.  Gadmeter  spied  the  trio  and  rushed  up  to 
shake  hands  and  to  make  them  feel  at  home. 
Joey,  sensitive  to  the  push  of  some  telepathic 
repulsion,  saw  the  principal  coming  and  fled, 
leaving  the  initials  unfinished.  The  Judge  re- 
ceived Josephus  with  cordiality,  but  the  lady, 
who  counted  herself  as  the  "  four  hundred  "  of 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  249 

Forest  Glen,  put  out  a  single  finger,  and,  in  a 
manner  at  once  condescending  and  aristocratic, 
inquired, 

"  How  is  the  school  ?  " 

"What  Mrs.  Bogus  meant  as  a  refined  snub, 
Josephus  took  as  an  invitation  to  familiarity; 
he  squeezed  the  one  finger  assuringly  and  spoke 
in  a  glow  of  confidence. 

"  Joey  is  making  magnificent  progress,  madam, 
in  mental  and  in  written ;  and  he  ranks  number 
one  in  rules  and  principles. — That  son  of  yours, 
Judge,  is  a  prodigy ;  he  has  the  brain  of  a  young 
"Webster,  madam.  I'm  proud  of  your  Joey — 
a  model  scholar — deportment  100 ;  all  industry, 
all  character,  a  born  medal-winner,  you  may 
say." 

"Joseph  is  a  remarkable  child,"  murmured  the 
mother,  thawing  perceptibly  in  the  eyes.  "I 
never  knew  him  to  do  a  wrong  or  ungentlemanly 
act." 

"  Blood,  ma'am,  blood.  The  son  of  a  gentle- 
man always  shows  his  good  breeding." 

The  Judge  felt  considerably  relieved  to  see  Dr. 
Blumas  coming  slowly  towards  the  beech-tree. 
The  doctor  carried  a  big  black  cane,  and  his  great 
burly  head  was  bent  forward  abstractedly.  A 
hearty  salutation  from  the  Judge,  awakened  him 
to  things  external.  Mrs.  Bogus  beamed  affability. 

"  "We  didn't  expect  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you 
here." 


250  TOM  TAD 

The  doctor  touched  the  brim  of  his  soft  felt 
hat,  which  was  not  new  nor  well-brushed,  and  as 
he  did  so  the  lady's  critical  eye  took  note  that 
he  had  on  two  collars.  There  must  be  some- 
thing very  serious  the  matter,  to  bring  about 
such  an  extreme  state  of  absent-mindedness, 
thought  Mrs.  Bogus. 

"  It  is  almost  by  accident  that  I  find  myself 
here,"  explained  the  physician.  "I  suppose  I 
moved  automatically; — I  thought  I  was  going 
the  other  way,  until  I  heard  the  shouting.  I 
have  just  left  the  bedside  of  a  very  sick  girl, — a 
very  sick  girl ; — and  I  hope  this  noise  won't  dis- 
tress her." 

Many  eager  listeners  had  quietly  gathered 
around  the  tree,  but  not  near  enough  to  the  doctor 
to  catch  all  his  words.  "How  is  she?"  they 
asked  of  one  another  in  suppressed  voices.  "  How 
does  he  say  she  is  ?  "  The  doctor's  troubled  eye, 
glancing  around  the  circle  of  anxious  faces, 
lighted  up  with  a  kindly  parental  sympathy,  and 
he  spoke  in  grave  tones : 

"The  case  is  serious  but  not  yet  dangerous. 
We  have  not  reached  the  crisis  of  the  disease." 

The  deep  silence  in  which  all  had  harkened  to 
these  words  was  broken  by  Josephus  Gadmeter, 
who,  as  if  demanding  official  information  for  the 
public  weal,  bluntly  inquired, 

"What  ails  her?  What's  the  matter  with 
Hannah  Tadmore  ?  " 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  251 

"  Nervous  prostration,"  answered  Doctor  Blu- 
mas,  curtly.  "  Overtaxed  brain — too  little  rest — 
too  much  study." 

The  principal  felt  morally  bound  to  enter  a 
sweeping  protest  against  the  medical  man's 
hypothesis. 

"Begging  your  pardon,  I  never  knew  an  in- 
stance of  overtaxed  brain,  in  all  my  educational 
experience.  No,  sir !  Bosh !  Hard  study  brings 
good  health ;  the  harder  the  study  the  better  the 
health!  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about — it's 
my  business  to  know.  The  facts  are  against 
you,  my  dear  doctor.  Look  at  statistics ! " 

Judge  Bogus  stared  upward  as  if  the  multitu- 
dinous leaves  overhead  were  statistics,  and  the 
rest  of  the  company  blinked  aloft  to  see  what  the 
Judge  was  looking  at.  The  doctor  poked  the 
ground  with  his  cane,  and  Mr.  Gadmeter,  waxing 
eloquent,  and  jabbing  his  forefinger  at  the  rotund 
front  of  the  Judge,  argued  on. 

"  Look  at  statistics !  You  dare  not  face  cold 
statistics,  Dr.  Blumas.  They  knock  you  down. 
You  are  a  physician — an  M.  D. — you  have  your 
degree  and  this  community  respects  you.  But 
we  are  discussing  a  question  of  pedagogics. 
Pedagogics.  It  is  a  psychic  question,  I  admit, 
but  a  pedagogico-psychic  not  a  therapeutico- 
psychic  question. — It  is  not  hard  study,  my 
friends,  which  destroys  your  children's  healths ; 
it  isn't  'rithmetic,  and  grammar,  and  science,  and 


252  TOM  TAD 

lit'ratoor,  ruins  these  boys  and  girls,  but  it's  danc- 
ing, and  overeating,  and  oversleeping,  and  fash- 
ion, and  frivolity,  which  uses  up  their  bodies  and 
their  immortal  souls. — I  ask  Keverend  Ennydox 
if  that's  not  so  ? — Nervous  prostration !  Nerv- 
ous moonshine !  I'm  a  practical  educator — I 
have  no  patience  with  sentimental  theories ! " 

"Thomas  Gradgrind  is  not  yet  dead,"  re- 
marked Dr.  Blumas  aside  to  the  Judge. 

"How?  What's  that?"  interposed  Gad- 
meter. 

"  I  say  Thomas  Gradgrind  is  not  yet  dead." 

"  Gradgrind  ?    Who's  he  ?  " 

"I  refer  to  a  character  in  Dickens's  Hard 
Times." 

"  Eh  ?  O  yes.  Fiction.  I  seldom  read  novels. 
Of  course  a  man  in  my  position  must  dip  into 
those  sort  of  books  now  and  then,  as  a  clergy- 
man must  visit  the  slums."  Gadmeter  looked 
a-squint  at  Ennydox.  "  I  pulled  through  a  play 
or  two  of  Shakespeare,  in  the  translation." 

There  was  much  laughing  in  the  sleeve  at  Mr. 
Gadmeter's  expense,  and  many  wondered  how  it 
ever  happened  that  the  School  Board  came  to 
elect  such  a  man  to  fit  the  youth  of  Forest  Glen 
for  "  the  duties  of  this  life  and  the  joys  of  eter- 
nity." Dr.  Blumas  strode  away,  chuckling,  and 
the  throng  which  had  clustered  around  him  to 
hear  tidings  of  Hannah,  had  begun  to  scatter, 
when  a  rattle  of  buggy  wheels  was  heard  and 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  253 

who  should  drive  into  the  grove  but  Claude 
Rockingham,  with  Sadie  Smythe  by  his  side  ! 

An  urchin  band  of  barbarians,  intruding  on 
the  borders  of  Christendom,  hailed  this  gay 
turnout  with  jeers  and  a  salvo  of  clods. 

"  Swell  head !  Swell  head ! "  bawled  one  of 
the  heathen  horde.  "  Puttin'  on  style  ! " 

"  Big  bugs  1 "  cried  another.  "  Think  they're 
the  whole  shootin'  match  ! " 

A  lad  belonging  to  Miss  Crinkler's  Bible  class 
yelled,  "  Whip  behind !  Yer  hoss  is  blind  !  " 
Claude,  thus  admonished,  did  "  whip  behind," 
but  not  quickly  enough  to  sting  with  his  keen 
lash  the  slim  body  of  Squinty  Runkle,  who  leapt 
nimbly  from  the  very  narrow  and  uncomfortable 
perch  on  which  he  had  been  hooking  a  ride.  The 
waif  took  to  his  heels,  Seneca  Snooks  and  Cuff 
Chuck  barking  on  his  track,  like  mongrels  cha- 
sing a  scared  kitten. 

Squinty,  eluding  his  pursuers,  sought  refuge  in 
the  camp  of  the  civilized,  where  he  flitted  about 
among  the  bushes,  an  alien  in  a  strange  country. 
He  could  not  classify  himself  either  with  the 
wolves  or  with  the  lambs. 

Many  efforts  had  been  made  by  Miss  Belmont 
and  other  missionaries,  to  lure  the  timorous  little 
pagan  to  Sunday-school,  but  the  only  time  he 
ever  entered  a  church  was  on  the  memorable 
night  when  he  brought  the  news  that  Noggle's 
house  was  "  done  gone."  Once  he  told  Tom  that 


254  TOM  TAD 

he  was  afraid  of  the  sound  of  church  bells,  and 
that  on  Sundays  he  hid  in  the  hollow  sycamore 
in  the  Big  Woods.  Three  tickets  were  presented 
to  Squinty,  requesting  his  attendance  at  the 
picnic,  and  these  he  hoarded  away  with  the  pro- 
grams and  dead  flowers  he  had  picked  up  on  the 
night  of  the  commencement. 

Being  now  driven  within  the  picnic  purlieus, 
he  gradually  mustered  courage  to  slip  unobserved 
to  the  very  shadow  of  the  lemonade  barrel. 
Sam  Noggle,  in  the  act  of  dipping  a  tin-cup  into 
the  arctic  sweets,  felt  a  slight  pulling  at  the  skirts 
of  his  linen  coat,  and,  turning  around,  saw  the 
unclassified  creature  winking  and  grinning  un- 
speakable gratification. 

"  "Why,  how  d'ye  do,  Squinty  ?  "  said  Sam,  ta- 
king the  boy's  hand,  which  was  thin  and  limber, 
and  shaking  it  cordially. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  enjoying  yourself.  Had 
any  lemonade  ?  " 

"  Gosh !  it's  you  ! "  said  Squinty,  still  grinning, 
and  gazing  at  Sam  with  foolish  fondness. 

"  How  have  you  been  this  long  time  ? "  in- 
quired Sam,  slightly  embarrassed  by  the  extrav- 
agant gladness  of  his  idolatrous  worshipper. 

"  Gosh !  you're  here !  " 

These  two  exhaustive  sentences  were  all  that 
could  be  drawn  from  the  laconic  Eunkle.  But 
though  he  could  not,  or  would  not,  converse,  he 
was  sociable  to  a  fault,  much  of  the  time  keep- 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  255 

ing  at  Sam's  heels,  perfectly  satisfied  only  to  be 
near  his  protecting  divinity. 

Novel  and  astounding  were  the  scenes  and 
sounds  of  picnic  revelry.  Never  had  Squinty 
associated  the  idea  of  Sunday-school  with  sport. 
Here  was  a  free  show  under  the  blue  canopy. 
All  sorts  of  merry  games  were  going  on.  The 
air  was  filled  with  stimulating  noises, — the 
knock-knock  of  croquet  mallets,  the  thud  of  balls 
and  bats,  the  cheerful  buzz  of  chat  among  the 
men  and  women,  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  boys, 
the  shrilling  and  singing  of  girls,  the  babble  of 
babies,  and  the  holiday  flutter  of  green  leaves 
to  the  dance  music  of  June  breezes.  This  Union 
Picnic  was  almost  as  amusing  as  a  circus,  and 
almost  as  confusing.  It  made  a  light  head  dizzy, 
to  see  such  flocks  and  swarms  of  gaily  clad  girls, 
whirling  grace-hoops,  skipping  ropes,  sailing  half 
way  up  to  heaven  in  grape-vine  swings. 

The  much-hazing  big-boy  world  had  not  alto- 
gether excluded  hapless  Runkle  from  participa- 
tion in  its  insidiously  humorous  sports.  He  had 
been  initiated  into  the  mystery  of  "  Sockabout," 
"Hatball,"  and  "Stink  Baste."  As  "endman," 
he  had  been  hurled  senseless  in  playing  "  Crack 
the  Whip."  He  had  been  crushed  flat  under  the 
weight  of  a  dozen  boys  playing  "  More-on-the- 
Saw-Mill." 

Other  and  less  "  strenuous "  games,  in  which 
the  softer  sex  participated,  he  now  witnessed  for 


256  TOM  TAD 

the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  some  of  these  pas- 
times made  him  open  his  eyes  and  his  mouth, 
very  wide.  The  intricate  mazes  of  "  Drop  the 
Handkerchief,"  and  of  "Hindmost  of  Three," 
puzzled  his  brain ;  he  could  hardly  make  head  or 
tail  of  "  King  Charles's  Bridge,"  though  the  game 
tickled  him  immensely.  He  wished  himself  in 
the  train  of  King  Charles  that  he  too  might 
"  pass  through  "  when  they  sang 

"  Open  the  Gates  high  as  the  Sky." 

But  to  Ms  unsophisticated  instinct,  the  conduct 
of  Sam,  Tom  and  Charley,  in  the  flirtatious  game 
of  "  Here  Come  Three  Dukes  A-Boving,"  was  in- 
explicable. He  would  not  have  believed,  without 
the  testimony  of  his  own  eyes,  that  Sam  Noggle 
could  ever  act  the  "  gal-boy " ;  but  there  Sam 
was,  chanting  in  response  to  a  bevy  of  giggling 
hoydens : 

"  O  our  good  -will  is  to  marry  ! 

To  marry  !  to  marry  ! 
O  our  good  will  is  to  marry  ! 
With  a  ran-sa-tan-sa-tee  ! " 

The  Three  Dukes,  having  each  chosen  a  part- 
ner, proposed  to  substitute  for  the  reckless  pleas- 
ure of  roving,  the  more  reputable  and  sanctioned 
joys  of  Copenhagen. 

Sam  toggle  was,  by  acclamation,  selected  to 
enter  the  ring  first.  He  paced  around,  with 
great  good  humor,  playfully  scrutinizing  the  faces 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  257 

of  the  fair  candidates  for  his  favor,  and  now  and 
then  making  a  gesture,  as  if  about  to  fix  his 
choice,  which  at  length  fell  upon  Miss  Crinkler. 
The  moment  that  Mattie  felt  her  hand  softly 
stricken,  she  uttered  a  screech,  and  made  such 
frightened  haste  to  scramble  under  the  rope,  that 
Sam  forgot  to  try  to  kiss  her, — or  seemed  to  for- 
get,— until  it  was  too  late.  When  it  came  Tom's 
turn  to  try  his  luck,  he  felt  the  blood  mounting 
to  his  face  as  he  lightly  touched  the  fingers  of 
Melissa  Brown.  Melissa,  blushing  also,  and  let- 
ting go  of  the  rope,  fled,  expecting  to  elude  pur- 
suit and  return  suddenly  to  the  ring  by  the  safest 
and  surest  route.  But,  in  her  excitement,  she 
ran  farther  than  she  intended,  and  Tom  overtook 
her  just  at  the  moment  when,  fluttering  and  half- 
exhausted,  she  tripped  and  fell,  crying,  "  Don't 
kiss  me !  You  shan't ! " 

"  You  think  I'd  go  to  the  trouble  of  running 
after  you  for  nothing  ?  "  said  Tom,  and  putting 
his  arms  around  Melissa's  neck,  he  took  what 
was  his  lawful  due.  For  weeks  that  kiss  tasted 
sweet  on  his  lips. 

The  tide  of  picnic  pleasure  was  at  the  flood, 
the  universal  appetite  was  impatient  for  the 
spreading  of  the  lunch  cloths  on  the  sward,  the 
lemonade  was  sinking  low  in  the  barrel  and  the 
mercury  rising  high  in  the  thermometer, — when 
Mr.  Barclay  Snooks  arrived  at  Yellow  Oaks,  ac- 
companied by  two  ladies.  One  of  these  clung 


258  TOM  TAD 

to  his  left  side,  her  jeweled  fingers  hooked 
firmly  within  the  sharp  angle  which  his  gallant 
elbow  made.  This  favored  woman  was  Mrs. 
Kebecca  Snooks,  three  weeks  a  bride.  On  the 
gentleman's  right,  lacking  a  pace  or  two  of  keep- 
ing abreast  of  the  newly  married  pair,  and  ap- 
pearing rather  neglected  and  "out  of  sorts," 
walked  Miss  Rachel  McStaver. 

Barclay's  "  loud  "  wedding  suit  and  his  wife's 
gorgeous  headgear,  attracted  much  attention  as 
the  couple  strolled  awkwardly,  but  with  ostenta- 
tious airs,  from  place  to  place.  Their  conspicuous 
vanity  provoked  much  subdued  merriment. 
Claude  Rockingham  conspired  with  Amy  Gush 
and  other  mischievous  spirits,  to  flatter  the  pair 
by  fulsome  compliments  and  congratulations. 
Barclay  received  the  demonstrations  as  sincere 
and  suitable — just  what  he  expected;  but  the 
keen-minded  Rebecca,  conscious  of  being  made 
ridiculous,  drew  her  husband  aside  and  proposed 
taking  a  loverly  walk  and  talk.  The  pair  pres- 
ently strolled  away  to  a  quiet  nook,  sufficiently 
far  from  the  "madding  crowd,"  and  both  sat 
down  on  a  convenient  log. 

"  Don't  you  know  they  were  making  fools  of 
us  ?  Haven't  you  a  mite  of  sense  ?  " 

"  That's  no  way  to  talk  to  me,  Beck !  Do  you 
s'pose  caze  I  married  you,  you  kin  sass  me,  like 
you  do  Rach  ?  " 

"  I'll  talk  to  you  jest  what  way  I  please,  and 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  259 

if  you  don't  like  it,  you  can  lump  it.  Do  you 
reckon  I  married  you  to  be  made  a  laughing 
stock  of?" 

"Beck,  I've  had  about  enough  of  your  hen- 
peckin'  remarks.  This  ain't  the  fust  time  you've 
gone  too  fur.  I'm  a-gettin'  riled.  Rach  is  right 
about  it — you  need  takin'  down  a  peg.  You've 
had  a  low  bringin'  up.  You  hain't  used  to  good 
society." 

Mrs.  Eebecca  Snooks  breathed  hard.  She  bit 
her  lip  till  the  blood  came. 

"  You  fool !  They  were  making  fun  of  us  I 
tell  you!  I  heard  that  pink  girl  in  the  white 
dress  giggling  behind  my  back ;  and  that  dude 
that  bowed  almost  to  the  ground  whispered  to 
somebody  that  my  rings  were  copper !  I  heard 
him  as  plain  as  you  hear  me  now  !  " 

"  Did  he  say  they  was  copper  ?  "  snickered  the 
fond  young  husband,  taking  his  dear  one's  hand 
in  his  and  feeling  the  rings,  as  if  to  test  their 
genuineness  by  touch.  "  He  was  'way  off,  Beck ; 
they  ain't  copper,  they's  brass." 

Rebecca's  face  turned  ashen  white.  She  looked 
up  and  faltered, 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  You  kin  bet  your  last  hairpin." 

"  And  you  lied  to  me  about  your  money ! " 

"  It's  consarned  little  money  I  ever  had  to  lie 
about,  by  hokey.  I  hain't  got  money,  but  I've 
got  brains,  and  I've  got  Beck." 


260  TOM  TAD 

Mrs.  Eebecca  Snooks,  three  weeks  a  bride, 
arose  from  her  seat  on  the  log,  a  "  new  woman." 
There  was  no  trace  of  pallor  on  her  cheek, — her 
countenance  suggested  not  ashes  but  flame. 

"  What  did  you  marry  me  for  ?  " 

"  To  wait  on  me,"  grunted  Barclay. 

"  What  if  I  won't  do  it  ?  " 

"I'll  make  you:  I'll  hoss- whip  you."  The 
new  woman  thought  of  her  late  promise  to  "  love, 
honor  and  obey,"  and  her  soul  rose  insurgent. 

"  Barclay  Snooks,  git  up  1 " 

"  Beck,  don't  take  on.  We're  hooked  together 
fer  better  or  wuss.  Of  course  I  expect  to  be 
minded.  It's  natural.  The  man's  the  boss." 

"  Did  you  hear  me  say  '  Git  up '  ?  "  Barclay 
saw  in  his  wife's  eyes  that  which  made  him  re- 
member her  sister's  word,  "  Wolferine." 

"  Git  up  from  that  log ! "  A  forced  grin  dis- 
played Barclay's  irregular  tobacco-stained  teeth 
to  great  disadvantage. 

"  This  ain't  no  place  for  highsterics  and  tan- 
trums." 

"Git  up,  I  say!"  This  third  repetition  of 
Becky's  order  was  accompanied  by  a  sounding 
slap  on  the  cheek  of  her  spouse.  He  muttered  a 
coarse  imprecation  and  pulled  out  a  big  pocket 
knife. 

"  Gi'me  that ! "  demanded  the  vixen,  snatching 
the  knife  from  his  grip,  and  flinging  it  away. 
Then,  doubling  up  her  fist,  false-knuckled  with 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  261 

rings,  she  thrust  it  under  her  lord's  nose,  and  ut- 
tered the  contemptuous  taunt, 

"  Smell  your  master ! " 

"  O  come,  now,  Beck, — simmer  down !  "Wot'll 
folks  say  if  they  see  you  cuttin'  up  this  a- way  ? 
I  know  I'm  high  tempered  and  that's  why  I'm 
fond  of  you. — "We're  jist  alike." 

"  You  coward !  You  bully !  Wait  on  you, 
must  I  ?  Nary  a  time  !  D'you  hear ! — Git  up ! " 

Barclay  yielded  to  the  force  of  circumstances 
over  which  he  had  rashly  lost  control.  Hardly 
had  he  scrambled  to  his  feet,  when,  to  his  com- 
plete discomfiture,  Miss  Eachel  McStaver  came 
towards  him  with  mincing  steps  and  simpering 
smiles. 

"Had  a  little  tiff?" 

"  Viper ! "  said  Beck. 

"  Dovey  dear ! "  said  Rach. 

"  Take  me  home,  Barclay,"  said  Beck.  Then 
she  whispered,  "  Don't  let  on  anything  has  hap- 
pened." 

Barclay  was  himself  again.  He  crooked  his 
elbow  d  la  mode. 

"  I  should  think  you  might  offer  your  sister-in- 
law  your  t'other  arm,  Barclay.  Have  you  for- 
gotten your  manners,  now  you're  spliced  to 
Beck?" 

"  No,  he  hain't  forgot  his  manners,  Rach ;  it's 
you  that  don't  know  what's  good  form.  You 
ought  to  have  more  sense,  than  to  tag  yourself 


262  TOM  TAD 

on  to  us.  Nobody  invited  you.  Didn't  you 
ever  hear  that  two  is  company,  and  three's  a 
crowd  ?  " 

"  Hold  your  clack,  Beck.  I  was  addressing  my 
words  to  Mr.  Snooks." 

"  Mr.  Snooks  and  me  is  one." 

"That's  so,"  said  Barclay.  "You  and  Each 
better  kiss  and  make  up.  That's  the  way  I'd  fix 
it." 

"  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  take  sides  against 
your  own  wife,"  snapped  Eebecca,  reproachfully. 

"  Beck,  what  do  you  take  me  f er  ?  When  I  sot 
my  heart  on  you,  I  slung  away  every  other 
woman.  I  am  a  Snooks.  When  a  female  mar- 
ries into  our  family,  they  know  they  are  marry- 
ing a  gentleman.  I  haven't  no  objection  to 
allow  Each  to  go  with  us  in  a  mere  sister-in-law 
way,  but  ef  Mrs.  Snooks  says  'no,'  then  Miss 
McStaver  has  got  to  drop  out  of  the  game." 

The  committee  on  arrangements  declared  it  was 
time  for  the  picnickers  to  go  home ;  the  croquet 
wickets  were  pulled  up,  the  grape-vine  swings 
were  abandoned  to  the  play  of  the  wind,  the 
empty  baskets  were  gathered  together,  the  picnic 
revels  were  ended.  Before  sundown,  a  farm 
wagon,  the  great  box-bed  of  which  was  half  full 
of  fragrant  hay,  had  transported  from  the  grove 
to  the  village  the  last  party  of  youths  and 
maidens,  under  the  indulgent  chaperonage  of 
Miss  Crinkler.  These  belated  junketers,  as  soon 


THE  UNION  PICNIC  263 

as  the  wagon  started  home,  began  singing  the 
parody : 

"Hold  the  forks,  the  knives  are  coming, 

Spoons  are  on  the  way; 
Slam  the  dishes  on  the  table, — 
Pass  the  hash  this  way." 

On  nearing  the  Tadmore  homestead,  which 
stood  a  few  rods  back  from  the  road,  the  driver 
lifted  his  hand,  and,  at  the  signal,  every  voice 
was  instantly  stilled.  Slowly  the  vehicle  moved 
past  the  house,  the  pensive  young  folks  on  the 
lookout  to  catch  a  chance  glimpse  of  some  mem- 
ber of  the  well-beloved  family  ;  but  the  only  liv- 
ing creature  in  view  was  Hugo,  the  mastiff,  sit- 
ting on  his  haunches,  under  the  sassafras-tree, 
motionless  as  an  image  in  bronze.  Tom  lingered 
in  the  woods  alone  long  after  the  big  jolt  wagon 
had  rumbled  away,  down  the  dusty  road.  Now 
when  all  were  gone,  when  darkness  and  silence 
stole  in  upon  the  deserted  scene  of  the  day's  mer- 
riment, a  sense  of  strange  melancholy,  like  a 
brooding  cloud,  came  over  the  spirit  of  Hannah 
Tadmore's  brother.  The  long  shadows  of  the 
trees  looked  like  dim  paths  leading  to  infinity. 
A  lone  cricket  chirped  a  single  thin  shrill  note  in 
the  grass.  A  light  breeze  ran  whispering  in  the 
dusky  foliage, — then  suddenly  ceased,  and  the 
hush  which  ensued  was  as  the  hush  of  death. 

Slowly  the  boy  left  the  woods  and  bent  his 
steps  homeward,  treading  the  grass  grown  border 


264  TOM  TAD 

of  the  road.  A  few  faint  stars  glimmered  to  his 
vision,  like  far  off,  tiny  taper  lights  struggling 
to  keep  aflame.  As  faint  and  uncertain,  twinkled 
now  and  again  the  pale  ascending  lamps  of  wan- 
dering fireflies,  hovering  over  dank  grasses  of 
the  ravine.  The  evening  air,  warm  and  languor, 
ous,  carried  heavy  odors  of  woodbine  and  of  rose. 
A  tiger-moth  flitted  over  Tom's  head,  as  it  were 
a  humming-bird  of  the  night,  flying  on  muffled 
wings.  From  the  depth  of  the  woods,  lately  re- 
sounding with  jubilant  echoes,  the  tremulous 
wail  of  a  screech  owl  came.  The  desolate  cry 
stirred  in  Tom  a  vague  sensation  of  terror ;  he 
quickened  his  pace,  passed  through  the  dooryard 
gate,  hurried  across  the  lawn  and  stepped  onto 
the  veranda.  There  he  found  Dr.  Eldon  sitting  on 
a  rustic  bench,  still  as  a  ghost.  It  struck  Tom  as 
a  thing  unnatural  and  ominous  that  his  uncle  sat 
thus  gloomily  in  the  twilight,  without  pipe  or  cigar. 

"How  is  sister?" 

"  No  better,  Tom." 

The  boy  stood  silent,  choking  down  his  heart. 
At  length  he  said, 

"  I'd  like  to  see  her." 

Eldon  took  his  nephew's  hand. 

"  Wait  a  day  or  two,  then  she  may  be  well 
enough  to  see  you.  Not  to-night. — Don't  go 
near  the  room,  now.  Make  no  noise " 

"  No,  I  won't,  uncle. — Good-night." 

"  Good-night,  my  boy." 


XXXII 

KING'S   EX 

TWICE  a  day  Doctor  Blumas  climbed  the  hill 
to  the  Tadmore  house  to  visit  Hannah ;  and 
while  the  genial  practitioner  noted  her  tempera- 
ture, her  variable  respiration  and  feeble  pulse,  he 
cheered  his  patient  with  playful  questions  and 
droll  jokes. 

"  You  are  Poking  peart  this  morning ;  not  quite 
so  head-achey,  eh?  That's  right,  my  lady! 
Take  it  easy ;  eat,  drink  and  sleep ; — sleep  like 
Kip  Van  "Winkle  and  the  Seven  Sleepers,  and 
we'll  bring  you  out  of  the  kinks  before  you  know 
it!" 

Hannah  would  respond  to  these  playful  sallies, 
with  an  evanescent  smile,  and  her  languid  eyes 
would  follow  the  doctor  as  he  moved  about  the 
room  with  hands  locked  behind  him,  or  sat 
penciling  one  prescription  after  another,  the 
which  he  afterwards  tore  up  and  cast  out  of  the 
window. 

"All  right!  I'll  be  up  in  the  afternoon  as 
usual. — Give  her  the  powders  every  three  hours, 
and  the  drops  as  directed." 

After  this  oft-repeated  advice,  the  conscientious 

265 


266  TOM  TAD 

physician  would  pull  his  slouch  hat  over  his  iron 
gray  hair  and  plod  his  way  towards  the  village, 
frowning  upon  the  side-walk. 

Scarcely  an  hour  passed  without  bringing  to 
the  Tadmore  threshold  some  friend  or  messenger, 
to  inquire  how  the  sick  girl  was.  A  basket  filled 
with  choice  fruit  and  sealed  glasses  of  dainty 
jelly  came  from  the  Hoyle  farm  and  a  bottle  of 
fragrant  blackberry  cordial,  from  Hine's  cellar. 
The  recent  graduates  of  the  Forest  Glen  High 
School  united  in  sending  the  fever-smitten  girl  a 
box  of  roses,  with  a  card  inscribed  in  the  hand- 
writing of  Blanchie  Bopp,  "  To  our  beloved  class- 
mate, Hannah  Tadmore." 

Mrs.  Bogus,  in  her  new  rockaway,  was  driven 
up  the  hill  by  a  colored  coachman,  to  make  in- 
quiries and  suggest  remedies ;  but  the  good  lady 
stayed  rather  too  long,  talked  too  loud,  and,  in 
leaving,  depressed  Mrs.  Tadmore  by  religiously 
remarking,  ""We  must  all  come  to  it  sooner  or 
later.  Dust  thou  art." 

One  hot  afternoon,  Charley  Blogson  trudged 
up  the  dusty  road,  bearing  in  his  hand  a  tin  fruit 
can  filled  and  oversquirming  with  crawfishes 
which  he  had  captured  from  their  hiding  in  slippery 
crevices  along  the  bed  of  Blue  Clay  Creek.  "  I 
thought,  mebby,"  he  said  to  Tom  who  met  him 
on  the  lawn, — "  I  thought  mebby  your  sister  Han- 
ner  would  like  to  plague  'em."  Tom  appreciated 
his  friend's  notion  of  sensations  subtly  agreeable, 


KING'S  EX  267 

and  was  grateful.  "Hesitatingly  he  received  the 
proffered  gift,  but  explained  apologetically: 
"  She's  not  like  us,  Charley ;  she  don't  like  to 
tease  anybody  or  any  animal."  Tears  stood  in 
Blogson's  big,  blue  eyes  while  he  waited  for  Tom 
to  carry  the  living  testimonial  to  Mrs.  Tadmore, 
who  happened  to  come  to  the  front  door.  Tom, 
on  explaining  Charley's  errand,  was  surprised 
that  his  mother,  instead  of  refusing,  took  the  of- 
fering, and  said  earnestly,  "Tell  Charley  it  is 
very  kind  of  him  to  think  of  sister,  and  thank 
him,  Tom,  in  my  name  and  in  hers." 

The  following  Sunday  morning,  while  the 
church  bells  were  ringing,  Fritz  Haberkorn,  in  a 
hesitating  manner,  approached  Dr.  Eldon  who 
was  meditatively  strolling  on  the  lawn.  The  old 
soldier  held  in  his  rough  fingers  a  piece  of  brown 
paper  in  which  lay  a  few  succulent  sprigs  of 
sheep-sorrel  and  a  bit  of  the  inner  bark  of  sassa- 
fras root. 

"Py  golly,  you  must  exguse  me. — Shquinty 
Koonkle  kommt  efery  day  mit  shtuft  like  dees, 
und  he  say, '  Bleeze  shall  he  geef  it  Tom's  Sch wes- 
ter.' He  dinkt  dees  schmect  goot." 

Uncle  Felix  took  charge  of  Squinty's  choice 
edibles,  and  Fritz  clumped  away  to  the  barn, 
blowing  his  nose. 

The  sanitary  precaution  which  forbade  Tom 
to  enter  the  apartment  in  which  his  sister  lay, 
greatly  grieved  him  and  offended  his  boyish 


268  TOM  TAD 

sense  of  his  importance  to  her  and  of  her  de- 
pendence on  him.  Though  waved  from  the  por- 
tals of  the  sick  room  more  than  once  by  Dr. 
Blumas,  and  though  distinctly  advised  by  Uncle 
Felix  to  keep  away  from  the  house,  Tom  would 
hang  about  the  premises  and  look  in  wistfully 
through  a  window,  or  sit  down  upon  a  doorstep, 
in  deep  dejection.  At  length  his  longing  for 
some  interchange  of  sympathy  with  Hannah, 
through  speech  or  sight,  became  so  intense  that 
he  made  a  pathetic  appeal  to  his  mother. 

"  Mother,  don't  she  ask  for  me  ?  The  doctor 
needn't  know. — Let  me  go  in,  a  little  while,  with 
you ! " 

The  mother  shook  her  head,  and,  kissing  Tom, 
gently  disengaged  his  hand  from  her  sleeve  to 
which  it  clung. 

"  Mayn't  I  just  peep  in  and  see  how  she  looks 
and  throw  her  a  kiss  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  no ;  not  now.  She  would  not 
recognize  you ;  she  is  out  of  her  mind." 

Awed  into  silence,  yet  bitterly  protesting  in 
his  heart,  Tom  turned  away.  The  mild  denial, 
reluctantly  spoken,  his  sore  heart  construed  as 
unreasonable  and  unkind.  He  had  been  humil- 
iated by  the  doctor,  rebuffed  by  Uncle  Felix, 
and  banished  by  his  mother.  How  could  he  bear 
up  under  this  weight  of  wretchedness !  Not  a 
soul  understood  his  love  and  his  grief.  The 
"  Grandfather's  Clock  "  which  stood  at  the  end 


KING'S  EX  269 

of  the  hall,  had  been  stopped  because  its  ticking 
troubled  Hannah.  It  seemed  to  the  boy  as  if 
time  itself  had  stopped  stock  still. 

Tom  went  up  to  his  own  room,  hoping  to  find 
solace  in  his  customary  amusements.  He  had 
whiled  away  many  a  happy  afternoon  arranging 
and  labeling  the  treasures  of  what  he  called  his 
"  Cabinet " :  a  shelf  of  fossils ;  a  collection  of 
copper  coins  in  a  cigar  box ;  an  album  of  post- 
age stamps ;  a  stuffed  moleskin  ;  a  thousand-legs 
in  a  bottle  of  alcohol ;  and  a  prodigious  hornet's 
nest  to  which  was  attached  a  placard  bearing  the 
learned  words,  Vespa,  Sylvestris.  Tom's  eyes 
wandered  from  one  curiosity  to  another,  but  he 
was  unable  to  awaken  in  himself  the  faintest  en- 
thusiasm for  his  usual  pursuits.  He  turned  to 
his  books,  but  not  one  of  the  familiar  titles  now 
appealed  to  his  fancy.  The  spell  of  romance  had 
lost  its  hold.  "Whether  he  loitered  in  the  palace 
of  Aladdin,  or  drifted  down  the  Mississippi  on  a 
raft  with  Huck  Finn,  his  thoughts  were  with 
Han, — all  his  heart  was  with  his  sister.  It  was 
of  no  use  to  read,  or  to  try  any  kind  of  work  or 
play,  within  doors.  Tom  descended  the  stairs  to 
the  lower  hall,  took  his  cap  from  its  peg  on  the 
rack,  tiptoed  to  the  lawn,  and  thence  stole  away 
to  the  Big  Woods.  Long  and  far  did  he  ramble, 
tramping  up  and  down  hill-slopes  and  through 
dingles  where  shrunken  rivulets  fed  the  roots  of 
flowering  weeds.  He  paused  to  amuse  himself 


270  TOM  TAD 

with  the  ripe  seed-pods  of  the  wild  touch-me-not, 
which,  when  slightly  pressed,  burst  open,  scatter- 
ing a  shower  of  tiny  pellets  upon  the  leaves  of 
silvery  green.  The  pastime  was  too  trivial  for 
Tom's  serious  mood,  which  seemed  to  reproach 
him  for  his  idle  self-indulgence  at  such  a  time. 
Wheresoever  he  strayed  he  could  not  escape  mor- 
bid meditations.  Under  the  shadow  of  oak  and 
beech  and  elm  he  stood,  oppressed  by  the  ever- 
deepening  umbra  eclipsing  his  soul. 

The  burden  of  his  solitary  grief  was  greater 
than  he  could  bear, — an  overwhelming  necessity 
for  relief  rushed  in  upon  him,  and  he  fell  upon 
his  knees  on  the  rough  ground  and  petitioned  the 
Omnipotent  in  a  burst  of  prayer :  "  O  God ! 
make  her  well;  make  sister  Han  well.  You 
know  how  good  and  kind  she  is  to  everybody  and 
how  she  loves  thee,  O  God,  and  I  love  her. 
Make  her  better  to-night ;  or  let  me  be  sick  in- 
stead of  Hannah,  dear  God,  for  I  am  a  boy  and 
I  can  bear  the  fever  better  than  her ;  and  O !  I 
would  rather  die  than  have  her  be  so  sick,  she  is 
so  good." 

Tom  rose  from  his  supplication  comforted,  for 
he  had  laid  his  sorrow  upon  the  bosom  of  Infi- 
nite Pity.  Out  of  the  gloom  of  his  Gethsemane 
he  came  forth,  and  a  new  light  shone  around 
him.  But  what  philosophy  or  religion  can  pre- 
vent the  flow  and  ebb  of  young  emotions  or  an- 
alyze the  blended  piety  and  perverseness  which 


KING'S  EX  271 

confuse  the  conscience  and  thwart  the  will  of  the 
growing  boy?  That  very  evening,  after  Tom 
had  gone  to  bed,  there  came  into  his  mind  an  un- 
ruly impulse  which  soon  took  the  form  of  defi- 
nite, disobedient  intention.  "  In  the  morning  I 
will  get  up  early  and,  without  asking  leave  of 
Dr.  Blumas  or  of  any  one,  I  will  watch  my 
chance  and  slip  into  sister's  room  and  speak  to 
her,  or,  at  least,  look  upon  her  face."  With  this 
resolve  in  his  heart,  Tom  fell  into  the  sweet  ob- 
livion vouchsafed  only  to  robust  youth. 

While  he  slept  a  deeper  slumber  was  stealing 
over  the  senses  of  his  sister.  Soon  after  sunset, 
Uncle  Felix,  alarmed  by  signs  that  her  vitality 
was  failing  fast,  sent  in  haste  for  Dr.  Blumas. 
The  devoted  physician,  when  he  arrived  and  took 
Hannah's  pale  wrist  between  his  thumb  and  fin- 
ger-tips, had  no  cheery  word  to  utter.  In  vain 
the  mother  scanned  his  countenance  for  the  trace 
of  an  encouraging  smile ;  the  slow  shake  of  his 
head  spoke  the  language  of  defeated  skill  and 
love.  Clinging,  however,  to  the  forlorn  adage 
"  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope,"  he  counted 
the  minutes,  waiting  possible  good  effects  from 
stimulants  administered  as  a  last  resort.  The 
patient  gave  faint  signs  of  animation,  whereupon 
the  doctor,  in  his  kind,  familiar  manner,  spoke 
her  name.  She  looked  at  him  in  a  half  conscious, 
bewildered  way,  and  her  lips  moved  murmuring 
inaudible  words ;  and  when  he  bent  his  head 


272  TOM  TAD 

close  to  her  pillow,  she  asked,  in  a  scared  whis- 
per: "Do  you  think  I'll  pass?  I  studied  so 
hard."  A  tear  stole  down  the  old  doctor's 
cheek.  "  She  takes  me  for  Gadmeter,"  he  said  ; 
"  poor  child." 

Again  Hannah  lapsed  into  lethargy,  and  the 
yearning  watchers  by  her  bedside  all  stood 
gazing  upon  her,  in  unavailing  anguish.  The 
ticking  of  the  doctor's  watch  intruded  upon  the 
dumb  stillness  like  a  preternatural  sound  never 
heard  before.  Midnight  came  and  the  solemn 
tongue  of  a  church  bell,  in  a  steeple  far  away, 
was  heard  slowly  tolling  the  hour. — Doctor 
Blumas  involuntarily  lifted  a  finger,  and  a  mo- 
mentary shade  crossed  his  face.  An  awful  in- 
tuition drew  the  mother  closer  to  the  first-born 
child  laboring  now  in  the  last  feeble  struggles  to 
die.  The  father  stood  motionless,  rigid  with  the 
paralysis  of  woe.  Uncle  Felix  whispered  aside 
to  the  doctor. 

Should  they  rouse  Tom  and  bring  him  down- 
stairs ?  Ah  !  what  would  his  presence  avail  for 
the  departing  soul  or  for  his  own  bleeding 
heart  ?  Spare  him  the  bitter  anguish.  Let  him 
sleep  on  until  the  morning. — But  there  is  old 
Fritz,  who,  this  night,  has  sat  for  six  hours  out 
on  the  dark  veranda,  his  shaggy  head  bowed 
upon  his  hands, — call  Fritz  in. 

So  still  did  Hannah  lie  and  so  faintly  did  she 
breathe  that  not  even  Dr.  Blumas  could  be  cer- 


KING'S  EX  273 

tain  whetner  she  was  sleeping  or  dying.  Her 
uncle,  with  strokings  womanly  tender,  wiped  the 
gathering  death  dew  from  her  forehead.  The  fond- 
ling touch,  or  some  mysterious  quickening  of  the 
habit  of  the  brain,  re-kindled  consciousness.  Her 
eyelids  opened  wearily  and  her  lips  gave  feeble 
utterance  to  a  few  syllables, — something  about 
"  children  "  and  "  play."  Uncle  Felix  pieced  out 
the  meaning  of  the  broken  sentence.  "  She  thinks 
of  children  playing  on  the  lawn."  A  faint  flush 
overspread  Hannah's  cheek,  a  spiritual  light 
came  into  her  eyes.  Tremulously  her  right  hand 
lifted,  her  fingers  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and 
she  gasped,  "You  can't  catch  me — you  can't 
catch  me  now ! — King's  Ex ! — King's  Ex ! " 

Excused  by  the  King  of  Kings, — Hannah  had 
received  everlasting  immunity  from  pain  and 
terror  and  tribulation.  King's  Ex ! — The  dizzying 
game  of  life  was  ended.  She  had  fallen  at  the 
feet  of  Divine  Love,  "Which,  heeding  her  tremu- 
lous appeal,  lifted  her  and  bore  her  Home. 

Before  sunrise  of  the  following  morning,  Tom 
awoke,  and,  on  the  instant,  remembered  his  fixed 
purpose.  He  sprang  from  bed,  dressed  quickly, 
descended  the  stairs  with  noiseless  tread,  and, 
skipping  lightly  out  upon  the  lawn,  culled  a 
bunch  of  roses.  "  She  likes  these  Celestials,"  he 
said  to  himself ;  "  I  will  fetch  them  to  her  for  a 
surprise."  With  the  dewy  offering  in  his  hand 
he  glided  back  to  the  house,  which  he  entered  in 


274  TOM  TAD 

breathless  silence,  and,  as  if  by  stealth,  made  his 
way  to  the  forbidden  sick  room.  The  door  was 
closed.  The  boy  softly  turned  the  knob  and 
pushed  forward  into  the  chamber,  feeling  a 
mounting  thrill  of  triumph.  But  the  window 
shades  were  drawn  down ;  there  was  hardly 
enough  light  to  enable  the  eye  to  distinguish 
objects  clearly.  Tom  paused  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  and,  arching  a  hand  above  his  mouth, 
ventured  the  smothered  question,  "Han!  are 
you  awake  ?  "  She  answered  not,  and  her  brother, 
after  a  little  hesitation,  approached  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  couch  upon  which  she  lay  so 
strangely  still.  Once  more  he  asked,  in  a  stifled 
voice,  but  with  fond  eagerness,  "  Han !  Sister 
Han ! — are  you  awake  ? "  Not  a  word,  not  a 
breath  came  to  him  in  reply,  and  Tom  thought, 
"  She  sleeps  so  soundly,  she  must  be  better,  and 
that  is  why  they  have  left  her  here  alone."  But 
why  that  white  cloth  over  her  face  ? — A  sudden 
misgiving  struck  him  to  the  heart, — the  roses 
fell  unheeded  upon  the  floor;  he  was  on  his 
knees  by  the  bedside  and,  with  tremulous  dread, 
he  softly  removed  the  coverlet  from  the  pallid 
face,  the  stilled  breast  and  folded  hands.  Dear, 
dearest  one,  there  on  her  white  finger,  was  the 
simple  ring  he  had  given  her, — the  ring  she  pre- 
ferred to  wear.  Caressingly  Tom  put  his  hand 
upon  that  of  his  sister,  but  instantly  recoiled. 
The  appalling  revelation  came  to  him  in  a  blind- 


KING'S  EX  275 

ing  nosh.  Asleep  ?  No,  no,  not  sleeping !  this 
was  not  sleep, — this  is  death !  Pitiless  God,  deaf 
to  prayer,  had  come  in  the  night  and  taken  away 
his  sister's  life.  "  Hannah !  Hannah ! "  he 
moaned,  sinking  his  face  upon  the  cold  bosom 
which  could  never  more  respond  by  a  single 
heart-throb  or  one  loving  sigh. 


XXXIII 

TOM  DISCOVERS   NEW   WORLDS 

MORBID  and  unconsolable,  Tom  religiously 
strove  to  adjust  himself  to  the  conditions  of  his 
changed  world,  in  a  life  the  pleasures  and  pains 
of  which  could  not  be  shared  with  his  sister.  He 
wandered  lonely  and  heart-sore,  like  one  in  a 
vain  search  for  lost  joy.  To  him  the  roses  of 
June  seemed  not  to  yield  so  sweet  a  fragrance  as 
they  used  to  exhale ;  the  ripe  dew-berries  lacked 
a  flavor  remembered  in  those  which  melted  upon 
his  tongue  a  year  ago,  when  Hannah  walked  the 
green  lanes  and  wandered  afield,  with  him.  How 
desolate  now  appeared  the  play-house  she  had 
helped  him  contrive,  in  the  vine-canopied  nook 
they  had  named  Fairy-land. 

Summer,  in  dusty  robes,  paced  the  Ohio  Val- 
ley, and  drank  away  the  waters  until  every 
brook  was  gone  and  the  broad,  deep  river  was 
shrunken  to  a  narrow  stream  winding  among 
bars  of  scorched  sand.  The  yellow  feathers  of 
the  golden-rod  faded  to  flaxen  plumes;  the 
floral  crown  of  the  hardy  iron-weed  lost  its 
purple  glory ;  the  field-thistle  sent  forth  a 

276 


TOM  DISCOVERS  NEW  WORLDS      277 

thousand  tiny  parachutes  to  wander  in  upper 
air;  September,  October,  November,  came  and 
lingered  and  passed;  Thanksgiving  Day  was 
over,  and  Christmas  was  not  far  off — Merry 
Christmas,  the  Love  Feast  of  the  "World. 

"Mother,  it  will  not  seem  like  holidays  this 
year.  I  couldn't  bear  to  trim  a  Christmas  tree, 
or  to  light  the  candles,  or  to  start  her  music-box 
a-going, — as  she  always  did,  you  know. — I  can't 
help  thinking  she  has  only  gone  away  for  a  while 
on  a  visit,  like  you  went  to  Los  Angeles,  and  that 
she  will  come  home  by  and  by,  and  tell  us  about 
where  she  has  been." 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  I  feel  as  you  do ;  it  is  hard  to 
reconcile  ourselves  to  God's  will." 

Tom,  sitting  down  on  a  low  stool  at  his  moth- 
er's feet,  looked  wistfully  into  her  face : 

"  We  are  more  alike  than  I  thought,  mother. 
Do  you  kind  of  feel  that  maybe  she  is  homesick 
there,  and  wants  us  just  as  much  as  we  want 
her?" 

The  mother,  though  herself  unreconciled, 
yearned  to  pour  into  her  son's  heart  the  balm  of 
resignation.  It  gave  her  comfort  to  repeat  the 
sublime  assurances  of  the  Book  : 

"  God  is  Love. — God  is  Love,  and  sister  is 
happy  in  heaven." 

Tom  heard  in  silence,  fingering  the  needle- 
work which  lay  neglected  in  his  mother's  lap. 
After  a  while,  he  asked, 


278  TOM  TAD 

"Does  the  Bible  tell  anything  much  about 
heaven  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  Bible  says,  *  Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man,  the  things  which  God  hath  pre- 
pared for  them  that  love  Him.'  " 

"  I'd  like  to  hear  that  again,"  said  Tom,  look- 
ing up;  and  Mrs.  Tadmore  repeated  the  pas- 
sage. Tom  listened,  nodding  his  head  reflec- 
tively. 

"  I  wonder  what  He  has  prepared  for  Hannie  ? 
— I  s'pose  the  Bible's  true,  but  I  believe  you  can 
see  and  hear  angels,  once  in  a  long  while. — I  saw 
sister  up  in  heaven." 

"  My  son ! " 

"  I  did  !  I  saw  her  in  the  sky, — in  a  starry 
part  of  the  sky, — she  was  white  as  snow,  and  I 
saw  her  crown,  but  I  couldn't  make  out  her 
wings.  She  was  happy,  and  I  almost  heard  her 
say  so,  in  a  dim  far-away  voice,  a  million  miles 
away. — Sometimes  on  an  awful  still  day,  I  hear 
angel  music, — it  sounds  like  a  flute  or  more 
like  a  violin  playing  a  sad  tune  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river." 

"  This  is  imagination,  Tom,"  the  mother  re- 
plied, mournfully. 

"  Is  it  ?  how  do  you  know  ?  Have  you  got  it 
too  ?  Can  you  hear  the  angel  music  ?  How  do 
you  tell  when  it  is  imagination  and  when  it  is  a 
mystery  ? — Mother,  don't  you  recollect  the  tex' 


TOM  DISCOVERS  NEW  WORLDS     279 

that  the  preacher  read  at  the  funeral,  about  the 
last  trumpet  and  the  dead  shall  rise  up? — He 
said  it  was  a  mystery. — Do  you  know  that  verse 
by  heart  ?  " 

Mrs.  Tadmore  slowly  enunciated  the  solemn 
words:  "Behold,  I  show  you  a  mystery;  we 
shall  not  sleep,  but  we  shall  all  be  changed,  in  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at  the  last 
trump:  for  the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  the 
dead  shall  be  raised  incorruptible,  and  we  shall 
be  changed." 

"  That's  not  imagination,  mother, — that's  in 
the  Bible.  If  the  dead  can  hear  the  last  trumpet, 
why  can't  I  hear  the  angel  music?  It  don't 
come  often. — I  wish  God  would  let  Hannah  come 
down  sometimes,  don't  you  ?  " 

A  tear-drop  from  the  mother's  eye  fell  upon 
Tom's  uplifted  face. 

"  She  would  like  to  come,"  continued  the  boy, 
with  simplicity.  "  Hannah  won't  forget  us. — 
Why,  nobody  forgets  her,  in  church,  or  at  school, 
or  anywhere.  They  keep  flowers  on  the  desk 
that  used  to  be  hers." 

"  Yes,  Tom,  every  one  loved  her.  Your  father 
and  I  went  to  the  cemetery  to-day,  and  when  we 
came  within  sight  of  our  lot,  and  were  going 
down  along  the  path  through  the  evergreens,  we 
noticed  some  one  standing  by  sister's  grave ;  it 
was  that  foolish,  forlorn  creature  you  call 
Squinty." 


280  TOM  TAB 

"What!"  exclaimed  Tom,  with  a  cry-and- 
laugh  look  of  commiseration.  "  Squinty  Runkle  ? 
What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Quite  alone  he  stood  there  in  rags,  and  with 
naked  feet,  and  the  snow  was  beginning  to  fall. 
When  he  saw  us,  he  hurried  away." 

"  That's  what  Squinty  most  generally  always 
does, — runs  away." 

"  We  ought  to  do  something  for  him,  Tom ;  if 
you  and  Uncle  Felix  can  manage  to  catch  him, 
we  may,  at  least,  fit  him  out  with  good  shoes  and 
a  warm  coat." 

"  That's  a  grand  idea ! "  cried  Tom,  rising 
from  the  stool.  "  We'll  dress  him  up  fine  and 
stuff  him  with  roast  turkey  and  plum  puddin', 
and  then  we'll  all  pitch  in  and  save  his  soul." 

His  mother's  philanthropic  suggestion  turned 
Tom's  mind  upon  ways  and  means  of  capturing 
the  object  of  his  deep  designs,  and  the  course  de- 
cided upon  was  to  entice  Squinty  into  the  Tad- 
more  mansion,  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  then,  as  it 
were,  to  spring  the  trap  of  benevolence  upon 
him.  Fritz  Haberkorn,  being  in  the  secret,  in- 
sisted on  procuring  a  Christmas  tree.  Knowing 
of  a  certain  gnarly  elm  which  stood  on  the  bank 
of  Blue  Clay  Creek  and  which  bore  on  its  limbs 
many  straggling  bunches  of  mistletoe,  Fritz,  ac- 
companied by  Tom,  went,  with  ax  and  handsaw, 
to  commit  sanctionable  robbery.  He  found  the 
elm,  climbed  its  rough  trunk,  and  succeeded  in 


TOM  DISCOVERS  NEW  WORLDS      281 

cutting  off  a  bough  which  nature  had  lavishly 
adorned  with  emerald  leaves  and  waxen  pearls. 

On  the  way  homeward,  as  Tom  and  Fritz  were 
passing  a  ramshackle  house,  they  caught  sight  of 
a  person  who,  bending  under  the  weight  of  a 
great  basket  filled  with  dirty  linen,  looked  like 
Christian  bearing  the  bundle  of  sins.  Tom 
quickly  recognized  one  of  his  oldest  acquaint- 
ances. 

"Wie  geht's,  Barclay?  How  does  your  cor- 
porosity  seem  to  sagatiate  ?  " 

Barclay  set  his  burden  down  upon  a  stump, 
and  regarded  his  questioner  with  a  supercilious 
stare. 

"  What  you  carrying  in  that  basket  ?  "  asked 
Tom. 

"  Where  did  you  git  yer  manners,  young  man  ? 
When  I  was  a  kid  of  your  size,  I  tuk  off  my  hat 
when  I  met  a  gentleman." 

"  Oh  pshaw,  now,  Barclay,  don't  get  mad  at 
me.  How  are  you  getting  along?"  Before 
Barclay  could  reply,  a  voice  of  shrill  and  angry 
impatience  was  heard  calling  from  the  porch  of 
the  shanty : 

"  Hurry  up  with  them  clothes,  you  lazy 
hulk!" 

Barclay  muttered  a  vulgar  imprecation,  cast  a 
hang-dog  look  of  chagrin  at  Tom,  and,  lifting  the 
basket  to  his  shoulders,  sulkily  obeyed  the  im- 
perious order  of  his  dear  Rebecca. 


282  TOM  TAD 

The  bough  of  elm,  which  nature  had  bedecked 
in  holiday  green,  was  carried  home  and  set  up  in 
the  parlor  where,  in  due  time,  it  was  mysteriously 
laden  by  Santa  Glaus  with  glittering  tokens  from 
that  good-giver's  magic  sleigh.  A  few  of  Tom's 
special  friends  shared  in  the  Christmas  merry- 
making. The  party  would  not  have  been  com- 
plete without  Sam  Noggle,  by  whose  persuasion, 
and  in  whose  company,  Squinty  Kunkle  was  in- 
duced to  enter  the  house  and  witness  the  festal 
show. 

Squinty  was  abashed  when  ushered  into  the 
brilliantly  lighted  drawing-room,  but  seeing  kind 
faces  only,  and  hearing  only  gentle  and  sympa- 
thetic voices,  he  soon  felt  that  he  was  among 
friends  and  had  nothing  to  fear.  "While  he  sat 
gazing  upon  the  beautiful  objects  around  him, 
and  listening  to  the  medley  of  happy  voices,  he 
was  not  aware  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tadmore  were 
plotting  to  retain  him  permanently  under  their 
protecting  roof.  Their  plans  were  subsequently 
carried  into  effect :  Squinty  Kunkle  was  clothed, 
fed,  and  put  to  school.  Moreover,  he  was  installed 
as  first  assistant-general  to  Fritz  Haberkorn. 

Tom,  by  his  parents'  permission,  had  invited 
Sam  Noggle  to  stay  all  night  with  him,  the  in- 
timacy of  the  boys  having  greatly  increased 
since  their  perilous  adventure  on  the  river.  Ac- 
cordingly, after  the  other  guests  had  gone  home, 
the  young  cronies  went  up  to  Tom's  bedroom, 


TOM  DISCOVERS  NEW  WORLDS     283 

feeling  very  jolly  and  altogether  certain  that  life 
is  worth  living. 

While  Tom  slowly  drew  off  his  coat, — his  first 
move  in  the  process  of  getting  ready  for  bed, — 
Sam  took  a  look  at  the  curiosities. 

"  V-e-s-p-a,  vespa,"  he  began  to  spell  aloud, — 
«  s.y_i — what's  this,  Tom  ?  I  can't  make  out  the 
last  letters." 

"Vespa  Sylvestris;  that's  latin.  It  means 
Hornet's  Nest." 

"  Then  you  ort  to  label  it  Hornet's  Nest." 

"  You  oughtn't  to  say  '  ort,'  Sam ;  you  ort  to 
say  '  ought.' " 

"Ort  to  say  'ought,'  ort  I?"  laughed  Sam. 
"  What  ought  you  ort  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  ort  to  ought  to  say,  '  excuse  me  for  correct- 
ing your  mistake.'  You  ought  to  ort  to  punch 
my  head  for  my  bad  manners. — Don't  you  want 
that  centipede? — Just  put  the  bottle  in  your 
pocket  while  you  think  of  it. — You  may  have 
that  old  moleskin,  too. — Maybe  you  are  a  philo- 
pelist,  if  that's  what  you  call  it ; — I'd  just  as  lief 
you  took  that  album  of  stamps  along, — I  don't 
want  it  any  more." 

Sam,  in  silent  disgust,  viewing  the  ugly  "  thou- 
sand-legs," and  the  decayed  moleskin,  answered 
politely,  "  I  haven't  got  any  place  to  keep  curi- 
osities.— Anyhow,  you'll  want  'em  back  before 
long." 

"  No ;  I  hate  the  sight  of  them,  Sam.    I've 


284  TOM  TAD 

quit  the  business.  I'd  sell  my  old  mikerscope 
there  for  half  what  I  ask  for  it. — I  don't  care  for 
zoology  like  I  used  to. — I  haven't  told  Uncle 
Felix,  though,  for  he'll  be  sorry  I've  gone  back 
on  Natural  History.  But  I  have.  You  couldn't 
hire  me  to  stick  a  pin  through  a  butterfly  or  a 
beetle.  No,  I'm  not  goin'  to  be  a  naturalist." 

"  What  are  you  goin'  to  be  ? "  asked  Sam, 
sitting  down  to  untie  his  shoestrings. 

"  I  don't  hardly  know.  I'll  travel,  maybe.  I 
might  act, — Professor  Eipantare  says  I  have 
dramatic  genus. — Oratory  suits  me  pretty  well, 
but  I  don't  know  which  is  most  eloquent,  the 
pulpit  or  the  bar. — I'd  like  to  be  a  reformer." 

"  That  wouldn't  suit  me ! "  interrupted  Sam, 
kicking  off  one  of  his  shoes.  "  I'll  tell  you  what 
my  idee  is.  I'm  bound  to  be  one  of  these  here 
men  that  makes  things  hum, — a  boss  that  people 
can't  help  but  mind ;  and  I'll  stand  by  the  people 
and  run  politics  and  railroads  and  everything  as 
it  ort  to  be  run.  I'll  tear  down  everything  that 
is  wrong  and  help  on  everything  right.  I  won't 
let  nobody  do  nothing  mean,  or  impose  on 
anybody,  or  sell  any  cussed  liquor,  when  I'm 
boss." 

"  I  guess,"  said  Tom,  approvingly,  "  I  guess 
you  mean  you  want  to  be  a  reformer." 

"  Don't  care  what  you  call  me,"  answered  Sam, 
jumping  up  and  walking  about  the  room.  "  I'll 
make  things  git. — I  want  to  go  ahead  and  do 


<;KAITI.IN<;  KA<  H  OTIIKK  IN  A 


\VRKSTI.INI;  I:OUT. 


TOM  DISCOVERS  NEW  WORLDS     285 

something, — find  the  north  pole  or  smash  the 
Turks. — Sometimes  I  just  ache  to  be  a  general 
and  lead  a  big  army  of  brave  soldiers, — strong 
and  brave,  but  all  good, — good  and  kind,  Tom, 
as  your  mother, — and  every  man  ready  to  do 
what  I  say, — and  I'll  march  with  cannons  and 
swords,  from  one  end  of  the  world  to  the  other, 
and  set  things  right ! — But  first  of  all  I  must  git 
rich, — I'll  need  piles  and  piles  of  money." 

After  this  burst  of  confidence,  Sam  sat  down 
again  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  listened  to 
Tom,  who,  while  mechanically  taking  off  his  vest 
and  trousers,  gave  tongue  to  his  flighty  medita- 
tions. 

"  I  don't  care  much  about  getting  rich,  nor  be- 
ing a  mighty  boss,  nor  a  fighter. — I'll  tell  you  what 
I've  made  up  my  mind  to  be,  Sam,  if  I  live.  I'd 
like  to  make  up  books  that  people  would  read, 
and  keep  on  reading  after  you  was  dead ;  books 
that  will  make  'em  feel  sort  of  shivery  happy  all 
over,  and  sad  too,  mixed  up  with  thinking  and 
laughing  and  crying.  I've  read  books  like  that. 
Or  I'd  like  to  paint  splendid  pictures  that  when 
you  look  at  them  you  can't  ever  go  away,  and 
when  you  do,  the  picture  comes  along,  and  you 
can  see  it  with  your  eyes  shut,  like  you  see  angels 
when  you  dream.  Or  maybe  I'll  be  a  wonder- 
ful musician,  that  can  play  on  all  kinds  of  harps 
and  flutes  and  pianos  and  organs,  and  can  play 
so  sweet,  or  so  lovely,  or  so  every  wonderful  way, 


286  TOM  TAD 

that  when  you  listen  you  are  all  vanished  away 
and  turned  into  something  else." 

"  AU  right,  Tom !  let's  do  it !  — " 

The  boys  shook  hands  quite  solemnly,  but  a 
sense  of  humor  quickly  checked  further  senti- 
mental demonstration  and  prompted  them  to 
ratify  this  agreement  by  grappling  each  other  in 
a  rough-and-tumble  wrestling  bout,  after  which 
they  rolled  into  bed  and,  in  less  than  no  time, 
sank  into  deep  slumber.  They  slept  to  awaken 
to  the  light  of  Christmas  morning  and  to  the  re- 
newed "  gladness  of  living,"  which  is  the  heri- 
tage of  boyhood. 

"  To  be !  to  live ! 
What  being,  what  living, 
What  largess  of  living 

The  blood  of  the  boy  can  give  I " 

As  the  months  went  by,  Thomas  Tadmore  in- 
creased in  stature  and  in  understanding.  His  in- 
tellectual horizon  widened  as  he  rose  to  higher 
moral  and  spiritual  levels.  The  habit  of  reading 
grew  upon  him,  and  became  a  source  of  infinite 
pleasure.  Often  he  would  go  to  the  Big  "Woods 
and,  sitting  under  the  "  Emperor,"  would  pore 
upon  the  printed  page.  It  chanced,  one  day, 
that  he  carried  a  magical  volume  to  his  favorite 
haunt,  and  there,  under  the  greenwood  tree,  he 
was  captured,  engrossed,  enchanted,  by  the 
witchery  of  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream." 


TOM  DISCOVERS  NEW  WORLDS     287 

Never  until  that  rapturous  day  had  he  felt  the 
complete  power  and  blissfulness  of  the  poetic 
mood.  Tom  walked  homeward,  wrapt  in  a  rosy- 
golden  mist  of  imagination.  Meeting  his  mother 
in  the  flower  garden,  he  told  her  he  had  changed 
his  intentions  in  regard  to  a  vocation  in  life. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  an  artist,  or  a  musician, 
or  a  novelist,  mother;  I  have  decided  to  be  a 
poet,  like  Shakespeare." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear ;  I  have  no  objection." 


THE 


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